Trapped
by mornir-brightflame
Summary: Max longs to be able to just leap into the sky, and escape from her everyday life. Visions so real they're almost like memories continue to torment her, and the face of a boy with dark eyes haunts her subconscious. Fax. Rated T for language, if any.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, believe it or not.

xxxx

Max's face was set in a scowl as she shoved her way through the overwhelming crowd of teenagers, all eager to leave the hated building. After a year of this she should be used to the crushing amount of people crammed into the hallway, but she never did manage to defeat the claustrophobia, and could never quite eliminate the urge to smash out the nearest window and leap into fresh air. To spread her wings and fly … not actually _fly_, of course. She meant that in a symbolic way - what wings? Flying? Yeah, as if.

Max's face relaxed slightly and her head was filled with enlightenment. It was times like these that she was grateful her genetics had blessed her with such an inventive brain. She raised her history file and textbook and used them as a sort of battering ram, forging a path through the noisy throng. Whoever knew that notes and diagrams on Ancient Egypt could actually be practically useful in today's society? A grin split her face as the outraged cries of her peers reached her ears. Apparently they didn't enjoy being hit with her history work.

Panting slightly, her grin fading, she reached her locker. She stuck her tongue between her teeth and twisted the dial of her plain metal lock around. 9 … 31 … 15, and with a sharp, satisfying _snap_, she tugged the lock down and it sprung open. She removed the lock, using it to assist in opening her locker. Grimacing slightly at the horrible chaos that was the inside of her plain blue locker, she threw her history work in on top of the mess and dragged out her schoolbag. She cursed as one of her numerous key rings got stuck in the locker door, and tugged on her navy schoolbag harder. Suddenly, the key ring broke, and she stumbled backwards slightly, earning glares from the students that she managed to bump into. She muttered an apology, and moved back to her locker to inspect the damage to her ornament. She closed her bright blue eyes as she realised that her favourite figure, a fierce black hawk, was damaged beyond repair, with one of its proud, elegant wings ripped off. Now in a foul mood, she dragged out her maths file, shoving it in her bag, remembering the homework she had been assigned that morning.

Swinging her bag violently over her shoulder, she shouldered her way through the remains of the flow of students. As she walked out the double doors and into the subdued sunshine, she raised her face to the sky, with the few visible patches of blue, the rest obscured by clouds. A memory flashed through her mind – five pairs of wings, white, black and speckled, stretching out next to her, the feeling of the wind rushing through her hair and … feathers?

Max shook her head to clear it of the fanciful images. She'd been dreaming of this scene a lot, and those five other kids, whose faces she could never quite picture. Although she could see their wings, moving powerfully through the air, and could feel her own, downbeats timing perfectly with her companions'. She'd tried to dismiss these images as dreams, as longings of her subconscious, because who doesn't want to be able to soar through the clouds like that? But the visions remained, dream or not, and the sensations were so real, so lifelike, that she would wake at night, confused between dream and reality.

"Max!" Max was jolted from her musings as a voice shouted at her. The owner of the voice was jogging up to her, cheeks slightly flushed from the physical exertion, and bag hanging off one shoulder. Said girl spoke again, "Max …" she panted, "I've been calling your name for ages! Didn't you hear me?"

Max's mouth tugged up in one corner, only half a smile for her red haired friend. "No … sorry. I was thinking."

The redhead raised a thin eyebrow. "Always a dangerous pastime for the infamous Maxine Williams. What about?"

Max's golden eyebrows pulled downwards in a slight frown. "Just stuff. You're too nosy for your own good, Lissa."

Lissa grinned happily. "Yeah, I know. But what are friends for, huh?"

Max was silent, choosing instead to glare at her friend. Then she noticed the lack of people at the usually crowded bus stop. "Oh, shit – Sam, can you tell him to wait?" she shouted to the boy stepping onto the bus, which was readying itself to pull away from the curb about 25 metres away from Max. "See you, Lis," she called over her shoulder, already running for the bus. Lissa nodded, and raised a hand in farewell. Max was a pretty fast runner – she had the build for it, tall and athletically slim. She relished the feel of the wind in her hair as she ran.

And then she was falling. She shot through white, wispy clouds, unable to concentrate on anything much but the agonising pain gripping her skull. Somehow, in a small corner of her mind which wasn't buckling under the extreme pressure of the poisonous hurt, she knew that this wasn't real – the clouds, the unbelievable height that she was dropping from. How the hell could she have gotten up here? But the pain was real. How could something so bad not be real? Her head was filled with a splitting pain, as if someone was cutting through her skull with a chainsaw, inch by inch, and she opened her mouth to scream, but the sound was torn away by a fierce wind. Then she felt warm, strong arms wrap around her, holding her tight. Black wings flared out, and there was a jolt as her seemingly endless downwards spiral was halted. With only echoes of the terrible pain left, she sank into darkness, the last thing she remembered being the face of a boy, with chocolate brown eyes that were dark with fear and wild dark hair falling into his face in disarray.

xxxx

A/N- No, really, this is actually going somewhere, for anyone who reads this. I tried to … to do something different, but ended up just … losing it, a little? ((sighs)) Um, it all makes sense to me, and if it doesn't to anyone else … well … all will be revealed?

And Max's eyes. Someone said that they were brown, but … but I can't really imagine her with brown eyes. I always get a clear sky blue. Odd, perhaps, but that's the way things are for me.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: So, the other night, I used my super-silent ninja skills to bypass Iggy's sentry position. I then proceeded to attempt to steal Fang while he and the others were sleeping. Max woke up. She hurt me. Bad. And threatened to kill me if I ever tried to steal what wasn't mine again.

xxxx

"Shit. Oh, Jesus, is that _blood_? Do you think we should call an ambulance or something?"

"Nah, I think she'll be fine. See? She's sort of waking up already. Ambulances cost a lot too. Money doesn't grow on trees."

"Shut up, Lissa. This is Max's physical wellbeing we're talking about."

"Whatever, Sam. She's not made of glass, you know."

"Did you see what she tripped on? I guess the pavement's a bit uneven – but I never thought she was _that _unco."

"Of course she is. You don't know her like I do."

"_That's _where you're wrong. Max and I have a very deep and meaningful relationship, and I think …"

Max groaned as voices filtered through her consciousness. "Oh, my God, do you two _ever _shut up?" she snapped, wincing as held out an arm for one of them to help her up. Sam, of course, leapt at the opportunity to actually touch her, and grabbed her hand possessively. Max waited to be tugged up, impatient to be off the dirty pavement. The bus had probably already left. How long had she been out? Then she realised Sam was still holding her hand. He held it for a while longer, not noticing the annoyed frown deepening on Max's brow; her blue eyes not yet open. Lissa watched on in amusement, enjoying the irritation that Max was bestowing upon Sam. Opening her cerulean eyes with a grimace, Max glared up at the boy holding her hand. "Sam. Up. Now."

Sam started. "What? Oh." he caught Lissa smirking at him and scowled, heaving Max up with his meagre upper body strength. "Sorry, Max."

Max huffed at him, and wobbled unsteadily on her feet. She shuddered at the memory of the splicing pain that had gripped her head. And that face, the face of the boy. She was desperate to find out who he was. A throb from her head brought her back to the present and she looked around her quickly. Upon noticing the many stares of surrounding students, her brow furrowed again, and her blue eyes narrowed into a glare. "What?" she snapped, and at her tone, most of the onlookers turned hurriedly away, shooting concerned glances over their shoulders. Sam and Lissa, however, continued to watch her with an expression akin to fright.

"What?" she snapped again, irritated by their lack of response.

"Um, Max, there's blood running down your forehead." Lissa said hesitantly, her flippant attitude from before falling away when she realised that Max was actually moderately injured.

Max shrugged, rubbing her arm against her forehead, wiping away the trail of blood. "I've had worse," she said nonchalantly.

Sam's face obtained a confused expression. "What? When? I've never seen you hurt before." Lissa nodded in agreement.

"I …" Max was sure she could remember a smashed nose, blood gushing down her face. She struggled to dig out the memory, and was slightly panicked to find it elusive, slipping away from her grasp. Blood, pain, darkness, a worried girl, with wild dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. Puppy eyes, Max seemed to recall with amusement. Then it was gone, and Max was left with the two freaked out gazes of her friends. "I can't remember. Must've been a dream or something," she laughed in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness that had arisen. Of course, despite her valiant attempt she failed miserably.

"Well …" Lissa hefted her bag more securely around her shoulders. "I'd better get going. You two okay?"

"We missed the bus." Sam stated flatly.

Max flinched. "Sorry, Sam,"

"It's not your fault," Lissa said sharply, glaring at Sam. "Sorry guys, but I have relatives coming over," she made a face. "Mom wants me to help clean the house."

Sam and Max made sympathetic noises.

"Yeah, I know. Hope you feel better, Max."

"See you, Lis,"

"Bye Lissa."

Sam and Max watched the redhead walk away in silence. Max looked around suddenly, then relaxed as she noticed her bag sitting next to her.

"I'd better call mom," she said, and dug her phone out of her bag. Sam nodded and mimicked her movements, swinging his bag around his shoulder and pulling a thick, silver phone from the front pocket.

Max dialled her phone number, and waited for someone to pick up. On the third ring her mother answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, mom, it's Max."

"Max? What's wrong?"

"Uh, I missed the bus." Max could almost see her mother frowning.

"Sweetie, that's not good. Why? You _know _that I can't always come to school to pick you up."

"Yeah, I know, but I fell over and cracked my head on the pavement. Hurt like shit."

"Language." her mother snapped, and then her harsh tone melted into a concerned and stereotypically mother voice. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Bleeding?"

"Only a bit of blood, but I was out for …" Max paused, then moved the phone away from her ear. "Hey, Sam."

Sam looked over at her. "Hold on, mom. Yeah, Max?"

"How long was I out for?"

Sam frowned. "Oh, not long. Long enough for me to run from the bus and argue with Lissa for a minute or so."

Max nodded her thanks and put her phone back at her ear. "I was out for a while."

Sam frowned, recognising the insult to his running ability. He sighed and returned to his own conversation.

"Oh, but Max, that's terrible! Do you need the hospital? Painkillers? Honey, don't worry about the money – we can pay it if you need it." Max's mother babbled in concern.

"No – _no_, mom, stop it. I just need you to come pick me up."

"Of course, hun, I'll be there in five."

"No, ten. Remember what happened the last time you sped?"

Max's mother giggled. "Yes, daddy wasn't happy, was he? But $100 isn't that much of a fine …"

Max sighed. "I'll see you in ten minutes, mom."

"Sure thing, honey. If you feel faint, just tell Sam. I'm sure he'll know what to do. He's _so _smart. He's such a lovely boy – and …" her voice shrank to a whisper. "I think he _likes _you!"

"Oh, God, I'm hanging up now. Bye."

Max snapped her phone shut with a sigh. She bent and put it back in her bag. Straightening again, she met Sam's stare. "What?"

Sam blushed and shuffled his feet. "Nothing."

"…Okay. So, when's your mom coming?"

"Oh. She can't. She's working late tonight. She said I should get a lift home with you."

"Right."

They both lapsed into silence; Sam shooting occasional glances at Max out of the corner of his eye when he thought she wasn't looking. Max ignored him, taking deep breaths to wash away the annoyance that had fluttered to life in her stomach. She grabbed her bag and dragged it over to the patch of grass next to the path, dumping it there, and sitting herself next to it. Sam followed her, and sat next to her. After some intense thought, Max dragged her bag around behind her, and laid her head against it, gazing up at the patches of blue sky visible behind the clouds. She blinked, and suddenly it was happening again. She was no longer on the grass beside Sam. The fragment of sky was shining out of a little blonde girl's eyes. The clouds were also visible in those radiant eyes. The blue was shadowed with pain and exhaustion. The small pale face was drawn with fear, and little white hands gripped the bars that kept her trapped in the suffocating cage. Tears hung precariously from long eyelashes. The small face was turned towards Max, searching for comfort and guidance, despite the cold and indifferent surroundings it was surrounded by. The smell of disinfectant assaulted Max's senses, and she stared hopelessly back at the girl, putting on a brave façade, reaching out towards her from behind her own prison.

"Uh, Max?" Max was dragged away from the desolate and lost little blonde girl by a soft voice and a touch on her shoulder.

"Max, your mom's here." Sam had already picked up her bag and was offering her a hand to help her up. Max took it wearily and grabbed her bag. She flinched at the sound of a car horn, and turned to the road. She managed a tired smile at the sight of a bright red convertible, and stepped onto the pavement. "You coming, Sam?" she asked, flicking a glance over her shoulder.

Sam had been gazing after her somewhat dazedly. He shook himself and nodded, hurrying after her. When they reached the car, he waved apologetically to Max's mother. "Hello, Mrs. Williams. I was wondering if I could get a lift with you? My mom's working late, you see."

Mrs. Williams nodded enthusiastically. "Of _course_, Samuel, dearest. It's my pleasure!"

Max groaned internally, flinging her bag into the back seat. She threw herself down, and pulled on her seatbelt. Sam followed suit, although he was a little more conscious of the condition of the car, placing his bag down gently, and carefully manoeuvring himself into a seat. Max's mom started the car and pulled away from the now empty school. Turning slightly in her seat, she glanced at Sam, then back to the road.

"So, Sam," she began, winking at Max. "Have you got a girlfriend?"

Max closed her eyes in vexation, leaning back against the seat. She ignored Sam's passionate denial of the question, ignored the way he had instantly glanced at her. It was going to be a long ride home.

xxxx

A/N- Still making no sense? Still not seeming to go anywhere? You'd be right! But I just thought it needed to end there. Y'know? Great.

So ... Max's mum's a loser, huh. This is all character development, this stuff. Although not much development went on here, I must say. Just a two spacings out – daydreaming about the flock, which apparently doesn't really exist in Max's life. That was Angel, by the way. The little kid in the cage. Maybe that wasn't explained very well. (( shrugs ))

Max's eyes are staying blue by the way, to my _dear _anonymous reviewer ( you know who you are, punk ) Only 'cause I think blue suits her better. Not a blue like Angel and Gazzy's … but a darkish blue. Pretty XD

Review, if you have the time! Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: So, I figure, that if I read the only Maximum Ride book I own enough times, I will be magically sucked into the book to become a Mary-Sue. Fang will inevitably fall in love with me. Fang will leave Max. Fang and myself will elope together, and all will be right in the world that was created by James Patterson.

xxxxx

Late again. Max groaned as she noticed the time. She fell into the kitchen, grabbing a box of cereal, dumping it in a bowl, pouring in milk. She carefully placed her bowl on the table, flung herself into a chair and proceeded to shovel her breakfast down her throat. Some kids skipped out on breakfast – not Max, though. She needed her food, all seven meals a day.

The cut on her head still throbbed a little. Max's mom had cooed over it sickeningly, lathering on all kinds of disinfectants, and assuring her that she'd be seeing a doctor in the next five minutes. Max had shoved her off and whacked a bandaid over the slice just below her hairline.

Max finished her cereal, mournful that she was late enough not to have time to shovel down another few bowls of the stuff. Hastily, she grabbed her bowl and spoon, throwing them in the dishwasher. Running upstairs to her bedroom, she grabbed her bag, dragged a brush though her straight blonde hair and straightened her collar all in thirty seconds. Then she leapt back down the stairs, heading for the door. She was going to miss the bus _again._

"Bye, mom!" she yelled as she exited the house, and hit the pavement running, soon leaving her picturesque house behind. Turning into the next street, she huffed a sigh of relief, as the bus was still at the stop.

"Maybe not so late, then," she muttered.

Waving to the bus driver to wait, she came alongside the bus and stepped on. Max paid her fare and cast her gaze around, looking for a place to sit. She stifled a groan as she saw Sam's eager face, and his frantically waving hand. She forced a smile and raised a hand in return, dragging her feet over to the seat he'd saved for her. Dropping her bag next to her, she slid into the seat.

"Morning, Max," Sam said enthusiastically.

"Hey, Sam," Max replied, trying and failing to inject some feeling into her tone.

"Head still bothering you?" Sam asked sympathetically, assuming that the reason for her bad mood was the result of her fall yesterday.

"Not much," Max said shortly, ending the conversation. She didn't seem to be able to pick up the strength to deal with Sam's irritating-perpetual-happiness and admiration this morning. She slumped in her seat, blue eyes stormy. Sam glanced at her, recognising, for once, that she did not actually want to talk to anyone – not him, in particular, of course. He turned his gaze to the window.

Looking past Sam, Max also stared out the window. They were still a good fifteen minutes from school. Turning her head again, to watch the seat in front of her, counting the number of globs of bubblegum stuck to the fabric.

"Haven't seen that guy around, before." Sam spoke suddenly. The bus had stopped at an intersection with traffic lights, and Sam was pointing out the window at a boy, carrying a navy schoolbag, identical to the one thrown carelessly on the floor next to Max. Her breath caught in her throat when she looked at him – actually looked at him, not just a cursory glance. Tanned skin, dark hair, fringe spilling over his forehead, shadowing deep brown eyes. It was _him_. The sight of his face brought back memories – so many memories. Years of them, that Max was sure she'd never actually experienced. She could remember the boy's face when he was angry, when he was worried, and this general blank look, which he usually sported and that he was carrying right now. She could see his beautiful features smashed and dripping with blood. Another time, his teeth bared in a snarl, eyes hard with determination. More faintly, she could see him as a cute little kid, with large black wings that seemed out of proportion with his small body. Then, a teenager again, his dark eyes seemed to stare into hers his expression full of … no. She didn't even know him! And she was sure that he didn't know her. How could he look at her like _that? _Only Sam ever looked at her remotely like that, although this unknown boy's eyes held something deeper, somehow more meaningful.

"I wonder where he lives …" Sam's musings pulled Max from her thoughts. "Why would he be walking? It's about a thirty minute walk to school from here."

Max didn't bother to formulate a reply. What was happening to her? This was disturbing, to say the least. Before, she could pass off these visions as a result of sleep deprivation or something of the like, the unknown kids being figments of her imagination. But suddenly, this boy appears, his face being one of the five that had haunted both her conscious and unconscious mind. He had unleashed a rush of emotion the likes of which she had never felt before – as far as she could remember, anyway. Max wasn't sure whether she could trust her own memories anymore. The intensity of her feelings had shocked her, yet it had been achingly familiar. But when she searched her mind for another instance in which she felt this way, she got nothing. Never, in her life as Maxine Williams had she experienced anything like this. But she had.

_My God, _Max thought. _I'm going insane._

She decided to speak to this boy with the dark eyes, see whether his face would again spark the memories that she couldn't remember actually happening, the memories that just didn't _fit _in her average life. Yes, that's what she'd do. Satisfied with her plan, and the conclusion she'd come to for the moment, Max tore herself from her thoughts, this time without Sam's help. Glancing over at him, she caught him staring at her. Instead of blushing and ducking his head like he usually did, he held her gaze, which was filled with a conflicting tenderness and intensity, and asked,

"What were you thinking about?"

Max's previously serene face fell into a scowl. "That's none of your business, Sam. Why?"

Sam was undeterred by her frosty tone and expression. If anything, his eyes seemed to blaze even brighter. "You had this little smile on your face. And your eyes – they were shining more than usual … it was beautiful," he spoke the last words more softly, and began to lean closer to her, his eyes slipping closed. His lips parted.

_Oh, shit_. _Too close!_ Max thought, panicking. Should she shove him away before he touched her? Go along with him, and tell him later that she wasn't interested? Or she could just leave, while his eyes were closed …

All thoughts left her head as soft lips touched hers, and suddenly, she wasn't on a bus anymore. There weren't seats full of students clustered around her. She was in a cave, with _him._ And he was kissing her. Again, that multitude of emotions bubbled up in her. She was on a beach; his face was covered in blood. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. She thought her heart would burst from the tempest swelling inside her. The cave again, and suddenly she broke. Too much, it was too much. She backed away from the boy, despite every inch of her body crying for her to go back to his embrace, return it and never let go. Max pulled away from Sam, every fibre of her being rebelling against the touch of his lips – she wasn't for him. She belonged to the boy whose fringe persistently fell into his face. If that was true, however, why was she running? She backed away from the boy who evoked such strong, uncontrollable reactions within her. Grabbing her bag, she mumbled apologies and excuses to Sam, who was watching her with understanding, and … amusement? Well, thank God they'd made it to school. Max's heart was aching with pain as she tried to explain herself to the boy, his expression filled with burning sadness and longing. Turning, she took quick steps to the edge of the cave and flung herself off the edge of the cliff, snapping out her wings. Swinging her navy schoolbag around her shoulders, Max gripped her head tightly, stumbling down the steps to the bus seconds before the rest of the kids on the bus had even considered getting up and dragging themselves into the building they cheerfully refer to as hell.

xxxxx

A/N – Well, then. _That_ was confusing. The last paragraph thing, I mean. If you didn't get it, it was, like, swapping between her crazy hallucination/memories, and reality. It illustrates the difference between the 'mysterious unknown boy' and Sam. Dear old Sam. ((sighs)) Just thought I should explain myself … Thanks for reading! Review, if you can. If you can't, that's okay, too. Just not as happy for me …


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I guess I'd better explain why I'm in hospital in a full body cast. Well, after my latest attempt on Fang – which involved flying foxes, water guns and lots – I mean lots – of aeroplane jelly – yes, after that, Max was, understandably a little pissed off. I could only just drag my battered and bleeding body away. Then Juhi found me. I was found a few hours later, by a jogger going for an early morning run. I won't be discharged from the hospital for a while, needless to say. Fang is out of my reach, I suppose. I had a visitor, though. Iggy felt some sympathy for my plight, and he came and brought me flowers. He's still here, three days later. Chained. Chained to the hospital bed. No, Iggy, you're not going to leave any time soon. Unless the lawyers come, with their daunting copyright papers, arresting me for claiming something I don't own.

xxxxx

Max had managed to drag herself through the rest of the school day, successfully avoiding Sam, and also, unfortunately, the boy who now starred in her sleeping and waking dreams. She'd skipped out on the last period, as her head had begun to ache abominably, and she'd feared another one of those skull-splitting episodes similar to what happened yesterday. She didn't particularly want a matching scar on the top of her head. She spent the last hour of school sitting outside under the tree, where she and Sam had sat yesterday, waiting for her mother to arrive. Luckily, none of the visions had occurred, and she spent her time blissfully contemplating the various ways in which she could discreetly, but seriously injure Sam to deter him from making another move on her. As always seemed to happen these days, her thoughts were rudely interrupted, this time by a bouncing red-haired ball of delight.

"Max!" Lissa squealed, green eyes shining with excitement. "You will _not _believe what happened to me today!"

Max forced her expression into bland politeness, killing the exasperated expression she had been wearing mere seconds ago. "No, I'm sure I won't. I guess you'll tell me anyway? Why are you here, anyway? There's still twenty minutes of class left."

"Oh, I had PE, and I saw you sitting out here, so I said I had a dentist appointment. Mr. Arks, is hell dumb, though. As if I would ever need to see a dentist with these perfect pearly whites." Lissa flipped her hair vainly, and then continued. "Thought you might want some company. And I just _had_ to tell you. So, I was sitting in Lit this morning – boring piece of shit that class was – and then this guy walks in. Oh, my God, Max, if you could have seen him …"

Max sighed. She only had eyes for one guy, who she frequently dreamed of. Or remembered. Whatever. Max allowed Lissa's voice to become a soothing babble of noise in the background, all her descriptive words of this wonder-boy running smoothly together, like lots of little creeks flowing together to form a large river. Vaguely, she heard Lissa tell her she'd left some work behind in the library. She watched her friend walk away, and then turned her gaze to the sky, deciding to use the last minutes of her peace in meditation. The bell rang rudely, and she gritted her teeth, remembering she had to catch the bus with Sam in ten minutes. _Damn_. Suddenly she was aware of a presence beside her. Squinting into the sun, she looked up.

"Oh. Hi, Sam."

"Max." Sam's voice was strange. He stared down at her, and then grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet.

"Sam, what?"

For the second time that day, his face descended towards hers. _Oh, for the love of God. Please, Jesus, not again._ Max was about to shove him off, and then she froze. Looking past Sam's face, which was in very close proximity, she saw him, that boy. This time it wasn't her brain conjuring up crazy images. He was real, standing about twenty metres away and staring at her, his expression a mixture of sorrowful pain and shock. She stared back at him, forgetting for the moment, the boy who had insistently glued his lips to hers. She admired the way the sun made his black hair shine, and the dark golden colour of his skin, most of all, his eyes – beautiful, deep and dark. Then he turned away, almost angrily, slender hands running through his hair with slight desperation

Then Max remembered the position she was currently in, and the boy she was currently locking lips with. _Crap_.

Going on the offensive, she bit down hard on Sam's bottom lip, intense satisfaction flowing through her when she tasted blood. He gasped in pain and shock and pulled away.

"What the hell?!" he choked at her, wiping his mouth, attempting to clean away the blood. But Max wasn't listening to him, nor was she looking. She was already moving after the boy. She opened her mouth. "Wait –"

But somebody beat her to it.

"Hey, Nick! Wait up!" Lissa called, her red hair free of its former ponytail and bouncing around her shoulders – and was that … eyeliner? Max's call died in her throat, and her steps halted. Too late. She watched the boy turn at Lissa's call. He watched her run towards him for a moment, then shrugged, turned away and kept walking. A small grin sprang, unbidden, to Max's lips. It fell again as a picture flashed before her eyes. Lissa had the dark eyed boy pushed up against a wall, and his arms were twining around her slim waist, angling his head to allow her better access to his mouth.

Had that actually happened? Was she some kind of psychic? Had it happened in _this _life, her life as Maxine Williams, or in another? The other being the life in which kids, her dear friends, she was sure, were trapped in cages. The life in which fear and worry were constant companions, and that cuts and injuries, such as the one she currently sported on her forehead, were nothing more than a part of daily life.

"Ni – ick!" Lissa shouted. "Wait!"

Max gritted her teeth. Never had she wanted to slap her friend around the head more than now. Just when she'd found the boy, who she was sure was important in some unknown way, Lissa came and took him from her. This must have been whom she was talking about before. He was in her Literature class? Then Lissa would be seeing a whole lot more of him. Max felt an urge to laugh at herself. So what? It's not like she and this boy were bound together. Just because she remembered so much... Her thoughts screeched to a halt, much like the car that just hit Lissa did. Wait – what? _Jesus Christ, _Max thought. _Lissa's been hit by a car!_

The redhead had been running across the road towards the dark eyed boy – Nick, Max knew now. That name sounded wrong. It didn't suit him, didn't aptly describe how unique and mysterious Max knew him to be. In her haste to reach _Nick_, Lissa had obviously neglected the basic rules of crossing the road – look left, right, then left again. Max stared, mouth agape, then reality kicked in, and she ran to join the growing crowd gathering around the fallen girl.

"Oh, my God," someone murmured. "Do you think she's dead?"

Max could only peer over the heads in front of her in disbelief. Her best friend was lying on the road, leg twisted at an awkward angle, pretty red hair sprawled lifelessly over the black road. There was a teacher bending over her, and another standing a few feet away, talking urgently into a phone. Calling an ambulance, Max presumed. She looked around as someone put a hand on her shoulder.

"What happened?" Sam asked, his lip slightly swollen, chin encrusted with blood. Max noted this with a sense of triumph.

"Being the dipshit she is, she chased some guy across the road, didn't look where she was going and got hit by a car."

Sam snorted, but his face was written over with concern. They pushed their way to the front of the crowd, ignoring the indignant protests against their manhandling, anxious to check on the condition of their friend.

"She looks dead," Sam confided to Max, much like the random girl standing in the crowd had observed. "Look at those shadows under her eyes,"

Max stared at him, expression blank. "That's what happens when Lissa tries to put makeup on," she stated, turning away from him to stare again at her injured friend. She was still irritated that he'd tried, yet again, to kiss her.

"Oh. Right. Do you think her leg's broken?"

"Um, _yeah_." Max resisted the temptation to finish her sentence with a _duh_, but that would be immature, and if there's one thing Max isn't, it's immature. Max pushed her annoyance aside, staring at Lissa's prone figure, or at least what was visible of it through the cluster of staff standing around her. Then she remembered the boy – Nick. Where was he? Casting her gaze around, she sifted through the faces of the crowd, seaching for, but not finding him. A figure in the distance caught her eye, and squinting, she made out a tall, dark person, most likely being Nick. Unconsciously, she took a hesitant step forward, her arm stretching out towards him, her mouth opening to call his name. _Fang!_

Max blinked. She quickly closed her mouth and lowered her arm, stepping back into the anonymity of the crowd. Fang? Where had _that _come from? That feeling had rushed up inside her, too. Again. Why had her mind chosen to scream that word, with such passion, of all words? Fang? Tooth?

"Hey, it's our bus." obviously choosing to ignore the incident that occurred earlier, which had resulted in the swollen lip he was now sporting, Sam grabbed Max's arm, dragging her away from the scene of the accident. "Look – here's the ambulance now. She'll be fine, but we can't miss the bus again."

Max reluctantly allowed him to tow her back through the crowd, mind still occupied with her thoughts.

Suddenly Lissa's voice rang out, cleaving through Max's coolly pensive mindset.

"You did this?" the redhead screamed, apparently to the unfortunate individual who had accidentally run her over. "You fucking bastard! Learn how to drive, you dickhead!"

Max gave a rueful grin. Lissa would probably be fine. Her friend's voice continued to rail, and she was obviously in pain. Sighing, Max turned away from the sound. She had a bus to catch. Stopping back at the tree, she picked up her bag that she had left lying there, and followed Sam onto the bus. She pretended not to notice when he patted the empty seat beside him, gesturing for her to sit beside him. Instead, she moved to a seat behind him and sat, placing her bag next to her.

The bus pulled away, and Max stared out the window, watching as her friend was loaded into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher.

xxxxx

A/N – So, Lissa was run over by a car. Sorry if it doesn't quite _fit_ with the storyline – it's all a bit too soap opera-ish for me, but I had promised someone that I'd add it in somewhere. Now seemed a good time. I was a little irritated at her stealing Fang – err, Nick – and so I thought that she had it coming to her. Enough justifying myself, I think.

There were hardly any crazy, confusing visions, thankfully. I was sort of, insane-ed out from the last paragraph of last chapter, if you get that.

So Fnick will be out of Lissa's dastardly clutches for the time being, whilst she is recuperating in hospital.

Thanks for reading! Review if possible – if you don't want to, that's okay. I wouldn't want anyone to hurt themselves, or anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Iggy! Iggy wake up, you silly sleepy head! I've found a map to Candy Mountain. It's a land of sweets, wonder and joy … and joyness. All you've gotta do is leave the flock, and everything you know and love behind and come with me. We're going on an adventure, Iggy, it's gonna be an adventure!

What? No .. I haven't seen Charlie the Unicorn …

I don't own that, either.

xxxxx

Max gripped the block of chocolate tighter, feeling the purple wrapping crinkle satisfyingly beneath her fingers. She'd never liked hospitals, or any medical or laboratory kinds of places. They always brought back terrifying feelings of exhaustion, pain and hopelessness, that were even more bewildering because she'd never, in all her life that she could clearly remember, been in a situation that could make her feel that way. Recently, hospitals had also sparked the visions. _Oh, look,_ she thought, a little dispassionately, resigned to her fate, _here comes another one_. Turning her head desperately, she searched the white hallway for a chair. Sighting one, she stumbled across to it and sat down quickly. Apparently, when she had these flashes of memories, or whatever they were, she lost all sense of balance, and woke up lying on the floor. She'd only been in the hospital for about ten minutes, but already the visions had occurred seven times. Hospitals were bad, then. It was always the same scene, too. Her and five other kids, locked in cages, staring at each other hopelessly, too exhausted even to cry. This time, though, was slightly different. Max was indeed in the tiny cage again, but this time one was missing – the tall one, with strawberry blond hair. Her self in her memories was sitting painfully erect – or as much as she could be in such a confined space. The boy in the cage across from her – Nick? – stared at her, and she gazed back. He was keeping the same stiff stance that she was. The other three, who were younger, were asleep, tear tracks stained into their blanched skin. Both Max and the dark eyed boy flinched as their missing friend was dragged into the room, moaning in pain, and thrown into his cage. The men in white coats muttered to each other, heads close together.

"… complete failure … perhaps another one?"

"… suggests the youngest … most versatile and undeveloped …"

Still talking they exited the room. Max and the other boy turned their anxious gazes onto the limp form of their friend.

"Iggy?" the boy whispered, fear rough in his voice.

'Iggy' kept his face turned away from his two companions, his slender form was shaking.

"Iggy?" Max hissed urgently. "What did they do to you?"

Wordlessly, Iggy turned his face towards her, and she flinched. Tracks of blood had run and dried down Iggy's cheeks from his eyes. His eyes themselves were glazed over by a layer of red, the sky blue colour snatched away.

"I can't see, Max," the strawberry blond boy sobbed, "I can't see!"

"Oh, my God," Max said, tears shining in her eyes, reaching out a hand towards him, trying to ignore the fresh blood that began to drip from his ruined eyes.

"You all right, love?"

Max jumped violently, blinking furiously. "Huh?"

The nurse who had spoken smiled kindly and held out a small pack of tissues. She'd seen this many times before. The crying and worst of all, the blank, disbelieving stare, that wasn't really looking at anything. "Here. You look like you need them,"

"What?" Max reached up, feeling with bewilderment the moisture on her cheeks. "Um, thanks," she said, taking the tissues, instantly wiping her face. "I'd better go," she said, standing up. "I've got to visit my friend."

Turning away, Max continued on down the corridor, leaving the kind nurse watching sympathetically after her retreating back. That was by far the worst vision she'd experienced. Ever. What had _happened _to that boy? Furiously wiping away another tear, she checked the numbers on the doors. Right, room 38. Lissa was number 45. Continuing on, she hoped that she wouldn't have another episode while she was in her friend's room. That'd be embarrassing to explain. 45. This was it.

Max knocked and pushed open the door. The room was bare, a TV attached to the roof opposite the bed, a small table with a glass of water on it, two chairs, and in between them, a large white bed. Lissa's small figure was lying in the middle of the expanse, swallowed up by the large white blankets and cushions. A sling attached to the ceiling held up her leg, which was in a cast, and there was a bandage around her head. Her red hair was the only bright thing in the room.

"Hey, Lissa," Max murmured, walking into the room. She stared at her friend's face, which was slightly paler than usual, her freckles standing out vividly. The green eyes were, however sparkling with excitement, which faded slightly when she acknowledged Max.

"Oh, Max. Hi. This is Nick, the guy I was talking about before."

Max froze. The already damaged chocolate in her hands was mauled even more. _Oh, Jesus Christ, you've got to be joking. _Fighting back a ridiculous sense of fear, she raised her eyes slowly to the occupant of the first seat next to Lissa's hospital bed. When she realised her eyes were travelling gradually up his body – his well-sculptured body, she thought – she hurriedly jumped her gaze to his face, instantly recognising the deep brown eyes, black hair and dark golden skin. This worried her, as she shouldn't recognise a boy, however beautiful he may be, after she'd only actually seen him twice, and from a distance. Swallowing hard, she tore her gaze away, fearing that staring at his face too much would bring on one of the visions. Also, staring at the poor boy like a stunned salmon was not particularly good for her image. Might make her seem dumb, and Max definitely was not stupid.

Lissa coughed in annoyance, glaring at Max. Max was bewildered by her angry stare. She raised her eyebrows in return. Lissa attempted to discreetly indicate Nick, widening her eyes, trying to convey something. Oh. Max almost laughed at her friend's possessiveness. Apparently, no one was allowed to look at the boy she was currently interested in for too long. Shrugging apologetically, Max turned to Nick, who had been watching the exchange with an unreadable expression on his face. The closest emotion Max could pin it to was despair.

"Hi, Nick," she said awkwardly, somewhat perplexed by this odd boy, the look in his eyes, the only expressive feature of his face, unnerving her. It seemed to disturb Lissa just as much because suddenly, the redhead uttered a girly gasp of pain. Two pairs of eyes, blue and brown moved to appraise her. Lissa revelled in the attention of the brown eyes, hurriedly plastering a faked brave smile on her face, green eyes fixed on Nick. Lissa, of course, was not in any pain at all, as the nurses had drugged her enough that someone could have jumped on her broken leg, and she would have felt almost nothing. Sapphire and chocolate eyes left the redhead, both holding a light of exasperation, and regarded each other again.

Nick only nodded in response to her previous greeting, just like Max knew he would. He never said more than a few sentences at a time if he could help it. It was frustrating sometimes.

"Uh, I brought you chocolate, Lissa." Max said, hating the tension in the room.

"_Thanks_, Max." Lissa said, eyeing her dangerously, reaching out and grabbing the chocolate off her, turning slightly away from her friend, to face Nick a little more. She'd decided that the interaction between her best friend and the dark eyed boy had gone on long enough.

"So when will you be getting out?"

"When they check the x-rays for any more fractures or breaks. Can't be too careful apparently." There was an ending in Lissa's voice, closing the conversation.

Max didn't even bother to sit down on the spare chair. "Sorry guys, but I have to go. I've got a doctor's appointment. Hope you feel better soon, Lis. Bye, Nick." she didn't expect an answer to her last comment, and didn't get one.

"Bye, Max!" Lissa said sweetly, fluttering a hand in farewell. Plastering a flirtatious smile on her lips, she turned her full, undivided attention to Nick.

Max rolled her eyes and began to leave the room. She paused as a voice she hadn't expected to hear spoke.

"I have to go too, Lissa." Nick said without inflection.

Lissa's pretty face fell. "What? Why?"

Max decided that this was one conversation she wanted to hear, and loitered discreetly by the door.

Nick raised a black eyebrow and the redhead. "I don't need to explain my personal life to you,"

Lissa pouted, in what she obviously thought was a cute expression. Both Nick and Max simultaneously thought it made her face look fat. "But I _want _to be part of your personal life."

Max forced herself not to gag. Watching Nick, she could tell that the boy was smothering amusement. He shrugged, not answering her statement, turning to leave.

"Wait – Nick! Can you come tomorrow?"

Max winced for her friend at the begging tone that had taken over the redhead's voice. She shook her head in sympathetic embarrassment.

"No." Nick took a step towards the door.

"Why?"

Max watched Nick's face, noticing the subtle signs of annoyance that she (remembered?) so well – the slight tightening around his eyes, the rigid set of his jaw.

"Harmonica lesson. All day. Bye. Might see you at school sometime."

Max pushed back irritation. The boy can't even use properly structured sentences …

Ignoring Lissa's protests, Nick strode to the door. Max hurriedly stepped out before he got there, not wanting to be in his way, and not particularly feeling up to making conversation with him. She was already a couple of doors down the hallway when Nick exited the room. She resisted the urge to look back over her shoulder, and continued walking at a normal pace.

All was going well until she reached room 18. There had been a particularly powerful smell of disinfectant wafting from inside and instantly, without warning, a scene began to flash before her eyes. Max recognised it instantly. It was hard to forget the dizzying sensation of shooting uncontrollably downwards through the clouds. Even harder to forget was the head splitting pain that ripped through her skull. She'd experienced this before, at school. She fell down, down, down, and then those wiry arms caught her. Like before, Max was only really half aware of her surroundings. She was carried in those warm arms for a while, moaning in agony. Eventually, the pain lessened enough for her to open her eyes. Slowly, she took in the blue sky, dotted with clouds, and the dark eyed boy, with large, deep black wings that elegantly moved up and down, carrying the two of them through the air. Noticing her scrutiny, he looked down at her.

"Man," he said. "You weigh a freaking ton. What've you been eating, _rocks?_"

Max was aware of someone touching her shoulder. Looking up, she met a pair of deep brown eyes, dark with anxiety. Lips twitching up, Max replied sarcastically, "Why, is your head missing some?"

The boy moved backwards a little, eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

"Max?" he asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Max came back to reality with a jolt of embarrassment. "Uh, sorry. I … uh … I just spaced out a little."

_Oh, God, she'd been talking to herself. In front of Nick!___ Frowning at the boy's odd position, she realised she was lying on the floor of the hospital hallway, with Nick crouched beside her.

"Talking to a Voice in your head, huh?"

A Voice. _The _Voice. Save the world, Max.

Levering herself up off the ground, Max sighed. "Something like that."

Nick also got up, his expression completely unreadable. "Max?" he asked. "Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to fly?"

Wings – mottled, brown, white, and black. Soaring, carving turns gracefully through the air, speeding through the sky. The wind in her blond hair, sun on her face. Max didn't ponder the strange abruptness of his question.

"You know, Nick," she said slowly. Nick waited for her answer, eyes fixed intently on hers. "I think I already know."

xxxxx

A/N – so, a day after Christmas. That's not bad … I mean, this is like, almost _regular _updates! That's cool …

Not all that much to say about this chapter, except that I wrote it all down on paper first, and that's why it may be a little all over the place. I mean, it had to be written, but it didn't come easy.

Oh, and replying to Shadowseeker170, if you're there –

Yeah, it was a bit short. I struggle to write more than a thousand words a chapter. And I hope three days wasn't too long? I wrote as fast as I could, without completely destroying the story. And, lol, omg you made me laugh so much. You are so righteous … what is wrong with the thirteen year olds of today?

Thanks for all the reviews! Have a happy Boxing Day, everyone:D


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I have here a list of every way that I'm better than all the flock members put together. No, you can't see it, but it's there. And Iggy still won't leave them for me …

xxxxx

"Does it happen often?" Nick asked, the expected element of curiosity absent from his voice.

"If you'd call almost every day, sometimes more than once a day, yeah, it happens often."

Max was unsure just how she and Nick had ended up at the ice-cream parlour down the street, but she wasn't complaining. After her episode in the hospital hallway, Nick had refused to leave her, insisting that he walk with her on the thirty-minute walk home. They'd passed the ice-cream parlour, and Nick had decided that she needed some sugar in her body after her collapse. Docilely, Max had agreed, however, she'd refused to let him pay for her ice cream. At her insistent demand that she pay for herself, he immediately gave in, mouth quirking up in a rare smile.

"Never argue with Max if you want to come out of it with all your arms and legs still attached to your body." he'd said.

Considering that they hadn't ever really spoken before, it was an odd remark to make, but it seemed natural to Max, as if they'd spoken like this many times before.

Slurping her strawberry ice cream contentedly, Max gazed absently at the boy sitting across from her. He stared back, bubblegum ice cream untouched, its fluorescent colours as perfect as they had been when he'd been handed the icy treat.

"What happens? Are you aware of what's going on around you? Or is everything black?" Nick asked, following up on his previous question. Max thought he sounded a bit like a psychologist, firing all these probing questions at her. Taking another lick of her ice cream, she pondered whether she should tell him everything.

"No, it's not black. I see things," she said, scrutinising Nick carefully, searching for a reaction. She got one.

"What sort of things?" he asked, anticipation in his voice, eyes eager.

"Weird things … you'll think I'm crazy." she said, even though she knew he wouldn't.

"I already _know _you're crazy," he said, with a trace of a smile. Max grinned in return.

"Shut up," she muttered, choosing not to answer his previous question. This didn't go unnoticed by Nick, who accepted that she didn't want to talk about the visions just yet.

"So you're in Lissa's Literature class?" Max asked blandly, changing the subject away from her apparent madness.

Nick sighed and lowered his eyes to the table, taking his first bite of his brightly coloured ice cream. "Yeah. I'm in most of her classes, actually."

"Oh. Is that good?" Max wished fervently that the answer was no, because she couldn't stand the thought of Nick liking Lissa.

"She's annoying. I know she's your friend, but I don't like her much."

Max's heart lightened ridiculously at his statement, and she fought back the urge to smile. "So why'd you go visit her in the hospital?"

Nick frowned. "She called my phone four times."

Laughing, Max asked, "How'd she get your number?"

"I didn't _give _it to her. She took my phone..."

"Of course," Max sighed. That sounded exactly like Lissa – pushy, annoying and clingy.

"What about you?" Nick asked. "You and that other guy, huh?" His dark eyes were inscrutable as he watched her, absently taking another bite of his ice cream.

"Oh, no!" Max fought and failed to hide a blush. "No, not Sam! He … he comes on to _me_. It's happened twice now, and he doesn't seem to get it."

"Get what?"

"Well, that I don't like _him_."

Nick had picked up on her inadvertent implication. "So who do you like?" he asked.

Max's blush leaped at the statement, and became even more fiercely red. "I'm not telling you that!" she said indignantly.

For the first time, Nick laughed. Max decided she loved the sound, and wished he would laugh more often. Suddenly, she and Nick were sitting around a campfire; the other four kids that she now found familiar were lying around sleeping. She and Nick were sharing a can of coke, and were holding their stomachs, howling with laughter. She just wished she could remember what was so funny …

"Max?"

Shaking her head, Max found she was smiling vaguely, staring absently at Nick's face. Uh … "Um, what?"

Nick watched her intently, eyes posing a question. Max nodded in answer. Eyes washed with relief, tension in his body easing, he tilted his head to the side. Max pouted for a second, undecided, and then nodded again.

"What did you see?" he asked, obviously unable to drop the subject for long.

Max hesitated. It was just so _embarrassing_. She was daydreaming about _him_. Remembering back to the vision she'd had in the hospital, she asked, "Who's Iggy?"

Max was unprepared for the strength of Nick's reaction. He flinched back, almost dropping his ice cream. "What?" he whispered.

"Iggy. Who is he? Why did they stab his eyes? He was bleeding …"

Nick ran a hand distractedly through his hair, other hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Is that all you remember?"

"Remember? What do you mean? Is what I'm seeing actual memories? Did this really happen?" Max was suddenly angry. She didn't _want _this. She wanted to go back to her normal life. She wanted to be able to go to school, hang out with her friends … not – not _this_.

Nick waited for her anger to burn out, understanding the reason behind her fury. Sighing, he said. "I'll just tell you everything. Might as well. I don't have much time …" Ignoring Max's questions that arose from his last comment, he continued. "Max, this isn't _real_." Noticing the confusion in her eyes, he elaborated. "This shop, that road, the hospital, the chair you're sitting on, the table we're sitting at. It's not real. Technically, you're not real, and nor am I. No, don't argue. Have you ever actually been out of this city?"

"No …" Max muttered.

"You need to escape, and to do that, you have to remember. Iggy. You mentioned Iggy. He's real. Do you see anyone else?"

Max stared at him helplessly. His dark brown eyes gazed back at her, slightly less calm than usual, his black hair in tousled disarray. He was even more crazy than she was … "There's six of us."

"Us?" Nick questioned, not expected the inclusive word.

"You, me, Iggy, two blonde kids and another girl."

Nick nodded, understanding. "They're real. We're real. Just not here. Maxine Williams isn't real. Nicolas Shreeve isn't real. But we are."

Max buried her face in her hands. "You're completely, freaking insane, Nick! How are we not real? Look at this!" she hissed, pressing her hand to his. "Does this feel real to you?" she demanded.

Nick nodded hastily. "But it's a lie, an illusion."

Suddenly, Max stood up. She ran a hand through her blonde hair and brushed down her jacket. "Thankyou, Nick, it's been a pleasure. Please, don't ever talk to me again. You are obviously even more insane than I am, or else just a bastard who enjoys making me feel even worse than I already do. Understand, that this is _real_ – stay away from me."

"Max," Nick began.

"No, Nick. Just stop. I don't get any of this, but I do know that you're probably just going to make everything worse. I can deal with the visions by myself, so stop interfering."

Max, still carrying her ice cream cone, walked to the door, dropping the unfinished delicacy in the bin. She pushed open the door and walked out into the bright sunlight. Nick's eyes had followed her every movement, and it was with great sadness and desperation that he watched her leave him.

"_Shit_," he muttered. "Jesus, Fang, you really screwed this one up."

Staring at the ceiling, he muttered, "A little help, you guys? Anyone?"

Receiving no answer, he mimicked Max's movements of a minute or so ago, dropping his ice cream in the bin and leaving the parlour. He didn't enjoy the warm sunlight. He knew that it was a lie. Nothing was real.

xxxxx

A/N – I actually wasn't planning on having this done until, like … Saturday. But I had some free time, sat down, and it all just typed out really easily. Must be my amazing typing skills …

Yeah, this was confusing. I don't think even I understand half of it. I originally wasn't going to have Fnick blurt out all that crazy babble, and he and Max were going to end up friends and live in happy bliss for a few days. But … nah, I changed my mind. :D

If you don't understand, just say so, and I'll see what I can do.

Thanks for reading, and leave a review if you can. Unless your fingers are too tired from scrolling down like once, to read the entire short chapter, and you can't possibly click on the review button and type out a few words. I understand.

I really have to stop this sarcasm … it's just not nice …


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Iggy only _wishes _he belonged to me…

xxxxx

Sighing, Max wiped the moisture from her face, and stepped onto the bus. She'd pointedly avoided Sam at the bus stop, though it hadn't been easy. There wasn't really anywhere to hide, seeing as they were the only two people standing at the small wooden pole sticking out of the pavement. He'd continually tried to make conversation, edging closer all the while. Finally, Max had snapped.

"Sam, please, _stop_ it. Stop and think for a moment. What happened last time you tried something with me?"

Sam had fingered his still swollen lip absently, watching her sadly. "I was hoping you might change your mind," he muttered.

Max had rolled her eyes heavenward, beseeching the stormy skies to give the stupid boy wisdom. "Sam. My mind is made up. I don't like you that way. I don't even know if I like you at all anymore, after this. I thought that I'd made myself pretty clear the last two times, through my actions."

Sam shrugged. "I can change, Max. I'll do anything for you. I'll give you everything…"

Max ran her hands through damp hair in frustration. "Sam, I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll find someone else."

"All I want is you. It's all I ever wanted. I've loved you ever since I was a little kid…"

Thankfully, the bus had come, and Max had been set free from answering, save for the perfunctory, "Oh, look, the bus is here."

She knew the discussion was far from over, but naïvely hoped it would go away if she ignored it long enough, 'it', in this case, being Sam. She had more important issues to think about.

Absently paying the bus driver, she made her way over to a spare seat, thankful that there were many others free, because then Sam wouldn't have to sit next to her. She did feel guilty about her blatant rejection of the boy, but she was repulsed by the idea of having his lips on hers again. Two bottles of mouthwash later, and she still felt unclean.

The bus had pulled away from the curb, and was rattling down the road. Leaning her head against the scratched window, Max allowed her thoughts to drift. Inevitably, a face that was partly obscured by black hair, with penetrating dark eyes floated into her mind. Nick. His golden skin seemed to shine even more than it had in the ice cream parlour, his eyes sparkling. And his lips … so grim, face tense with the animal-like wariness that he constantly seemed to posses.

Bastard.

Max shoved his face out of her mind. He had no right to be in there, not after the way he'd strung her along. She was seriously _scared _about these visions, about what was happening to her, but he'd treated it all as a massive joke. Despite her passionate anger, there was still a thread of doubt in her mind over whether he was joking. Surely no one had such a good poker face…

"Is this seat taken?"

No _way._ He hadn't caught this bus before. Why start now? Hadn't she made herself clear to him yesterday? 'Stay away from me,' she'd said. There wasn't much to misunderstand about that.

So, in that case:

_Yes, Nick, this seat is in fact taken. It's reserved for someone who is not cruel, and just a little insane._ "No, it's free."

Max mentally kicked herself. _Idiot._

Nick nodded and sat down. Looking him over, Max realised that her thoughts actually hadn't done him justice after all. He was so much better in real life. Just his presence seemed to light up the whole dingy, shabby vehicle.

"Max, I'm sorry about yesterday."

_I should think so. You'd better be pretty damn sorry. Don't even talk to me, you disgusting piece of … _"Yeah, I guess I overreacted a bit. Just don't mess with me like that again, Nick. I'm already pretty screwed up."

_Way to go, Max_.

"No, it was my fault. I know. And I'm sorry."

Faced with the pair of deeply remorseful dark brown eyes, Max's mental pushing to give him the cold shoulder receded. She couldn't argue with eyes like that. There was only one other pair of eyes that could contest with a look like that, which also happened to be a dark brown in colour.

"That's okay, Nick," sighed Max wearily. When the boy hesitantly asked her if the visions had occurred again, she tiredly answered in the affirmative. The look in his eyes was … relieved, when she elaborated, saying they'd been coming more frequently.

And they had. Every time she closed her eyes, she'd be seeing the faces of those kids, seeing the ground spin away as she rose smoothly into the air, seeing bars and cages, smelling disinfectant. There was pain, blood, and the fierce exhilaration of fighting.

She didn't give him the details, and he didn't ask, seemingly aware that he'd probably pushed her far enough today, just mentioning the touchy topic. Max didn't want to continue to conversation, but there was something he'd said yesterday that had plagued her all through the night, keeping her awake.

"Nick," she began, instantly capturing his attention. "What did you mean yesterday, when you said that you don't have much time?"

Nick eyed her carefully, taking in her reluctant tone, haunted eyes and the exhausted pallidness of her face. "I can't stay here forever," he said softly, dark eyes sad. "I don't _have _forever, and neither do you."

Max was struck by the unexpected emotion in his eyes. She opened her mouth to reply, her words to be tainted with confusion and sorrow, but was interrupted.

"Max? Are you okay? Is this guy bothering you?"

Simultaneously, Max and Nick looked up at the boy standing over them, the moment shattered into a thousand broken pieces. Realising how they were leaning into each other, they straightened, a blush staining Max's cheeks, Nick's face impassive. Sam himself looked fierce and possessive, eyes riveted dangerously on Nick.

"No, Sam, I'm fine." Max sighed, wishing he would leave.

Sam didn't take her hint. "You looked upset."

"She said she was fine," Nick spoke, his voice coldly emotionless.

Sam was obviously about to retort angrily, but Max saved him the trouble.

"Sam, I'm fine, just like he said."  
"Okay…" shuffling his feet awkwardly, but not leaving. Max and Nick both watched him for a while, and then turned to each other with raised eyebrows.

"So, Nick, you play the harmonica?" Max asked conversationally, remembering his excuse for not going to see Lissa in the hospital again.

"Oh, sure. I play a mean harmonica."

Relishing the light hearted banter, a drastic change from the dark, disturbing topics of their previous conversation, Max laughed and Nick allowed himself a small grin. Sam, still standing next to them looked less than amused. He glared daggers – _no, not daggers,_ Max thought, _swords_ – at Nick.

Abruptly, the bus stopped, and Sam staggered, tripping over the numerous bags piled along the aisle. Max peered over Nick's head at him.

"Sam? You okay?"

Sam waved at her from his position on the floor. "Fine, thanks."

Max laughed, and this time Nick laughed with her.

At hearing the other boy's laugh, Sam's face fell into a scowl, and he hauled himself up.

"Maybe you should go back to your seat?" Max suggested with goodwill. "I wouldn't want you damage yourself too much."

Frown still plastered on his face, Sam nodded, shooting a venomous glare at Nick, and, carefully avoiding the school bags, manoeuvred his way back to his own seat.

"Is he always like that?" Nick asked, staring after the boy with a mixture of confusion and remembrance. He frowned slightly, as if something wasn't quite right with the boy.

"Yeah," sighed Max. "Always."

There was a silent, mutual decision to leave the topic of Max's impending insanity alone, and instead they focused on light-hearted banter, as if they were normal kids, with a normal friendship orientated relationship.

"You play an instrument?" Nick asked, although his voice lacked real curiosity, as if he already knew the answer.

Max answered anyway, positive there wasn't any way that he could already know everything about her. "No, I prefer sport. I'm in the track team."

Nick nodded, unsurprised. "Favourite subject?" this time he showed real curiosity, though Max wasn't to know why.

"Not that I like school, I like Science best – human biol., and genetics especially."

Nick exhaled sharply, eyes filled with a bewildering ironic amusement. He cast his gaze away from her to stare out the window.

Max wondered at his strange reaction. "How about you?" she questioned.

"I'm the same – don't like school. I hate Science, genetics especially." realising that he probably sounded a bit rude, he hastily continued. "That's just me, though. I like Maths most."

Max decided to ignore any strange behaviour coming from the boy, and screwed up her face at his response. "I don't like Maths at all. It doesn't apply practically to real life much, and so I find it pointless to learn." she stated, remembering with chagrin the homework she'd been assigned the previous week and had neglected to do.

"Not that _you'd _know much about real life anymore," Nick muttered, his comment going unheard by Max, as he intended. Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he fought back the despair that threatened to swamp him. This was impossible. Max would never be the same.

xxxxx

A/N – okay, I'm sorry! It was late, and I was sure I'd have written it before now, but I got totally stuck, and so I had to do _another _scene on the bus. Sorry! But _something _happened, right? Fnick and Max are fwiends now! See! No more Max-hating-Fnick… I call him Fnick, because obviously, I don't call him Fang just now in the story, and … well, he's still supposed to be Fang, even if I don't get him quite right.

To MRACR – well, obviously, I wouldn't expect you to review _every _chapter. I don't expect _that _much. I'm just happy you reviewed at all! I'm glad you like it so far, and I hope … really do, that this chapter doesn't spiral you down into hating the story. I wouldn't be surprised …

And special thanks to Alyssal, because she pointed out a mistake I made way back when in chapter one ( which was corrected instantly, of course ). ((blushes)) So, thanks for editing better than I ever could.

Long note … finally, despite the fact it makes me feel unclean, I ask you to review, if you can. Otherwise, the bomb I implanted in your ear while you were sleeping will explode, and all this stuff ( blood, brains, gore … that sort of thing ) will go flying everywhere, ( completely wrecking your computer, I might add ) and it will be really, really disgusting. I've seen it happen before o.O


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I'm too ashamed at the lateness of this chapter to even bother amusing myself by thinking up a 'funny' disclaimer.

xxxxx

"How's he doing, Gaz?" a dark haired girl called to a blond boy, whose blue eyes were intently studying the matter spread out in front of him.

"Not good," the young boy replied, frowning. "Max is a total idiot."

Another blonde kid, this one female, her blue eyes a mirror image of her brother's, frowned, and opened her small mouth to rebuke her older sibling. She was interrupted by a drawling voice that emanated from the corner of the stark white room they currently occupied.

"Nothing's changed then?" the strawberry-blond remarked sarcastically.

The other three in the room turned to glare, scandalised, at him. It was a waste of effort, anyway, as the sarcastic teen was blind.

"Shut up, Iggy." snapped the eldest girl in the room, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. She put on her most ferocious stare, beaming it straight in Iggy's direction. A small finger tapped her shoulder.

"Nudge," the blonde girl whispered. "He can't see you."

Nudge swallowed a sigh, and reminded herself that Angel was a still a little kid, and couldn't be expected to understand the motives of those older and wiser than her.

Angel's blue eyes widened, and she whimpered, shooting a scowl at Nudge, moving to sit by her brother.

There was silence among the four children for a while, three of them wrapped up in their own thoughts, the other discreetly listening to those thoughts.

One thread of desperately anxious contemplation was consistent in all three minds. "How much time is left?" she asked, voicing the concerns of all in the room, as she had decided that none of the others dared to venture the question.

An uncomfortable silence reigned, and then the blond boy spoke, blue eyes solemn. "Not long enough."

xxxxx

Max awoke with a start as her head dropped with a _thud _onto her copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Her head shot up from her desk, and she hurriedly rubbed her eyes. She had unfortunately attracted the gaze of many of her classmates, and even worse, the strict man standing at the head of the room.

"Am I boring you, Maxine?" he asked, feigning politeness. He had placed his book on his desk, and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

_Hell yes. _Max thought. "No sir," she said.

"Then, perhaps, does the topic of racial injustice bore you?"

A girl in Max's English class, whom Max found to be slightly annoying and clingy, smirked at her from the desk next to her. "You're in for it," she whispered.

Ignoring the girl, Max stuttered, "N-no sir,"

Her ancient teacher seemed to be rather enjoying what he obviously considered verbal sparring. There just wasn't enough of it these days. "Then _why_ –"

He was cut off as the raucous, yet utterly welcome, blaring noise of the bell signalled the end of class.

"Lucky," Max's neighbour whispered disappointedly, feeling cheated out of her afternoon's entertainment. Max herself gathered up her books hastily, departing the room in record time. Not in the mood to be crowded, she half sprinted to her locker, fumbling with the combination lock. Haphazardly throwing her books into the small metal box, she dragged out her bag. Not bothering to hoist it up onto her shoulders, she lugged it after her as she exited the school building.

Panting slightly, she was dismayed to realise that she was slightly out of shape, as the athletics season was over. Frowning, she decided to do something about her physical fitness – perhaps a few early morning runs?

Shaking her head, Max took several deep breaths, decided to get on the bus early, to get a good seat. She gripped the straps of her bag and prepared to step on the bus.

"Max!"

Max turned at the sound of her best friend's voice. Wasn't the redhead supposed to be in hospital? But there she was, waving from the backseat of an expensive black car.

"Max! Get in! We're going out. I've already spoken to your mom – she says it's fine."

Relieved at the opportunity to avoid Sam's contact on the bus, Max immediately hurried away from the media of public transport, and over to the car Lissa currently inhabited. Walking around to the side of the car where there was a free seat, Max opened the door, flung her bag in before her, and got into the car.

"Hi, Mrs. Miller," Max said, about to thank Lissa's mother for the lift, then she realised the person in the front seat was a man. "Oh, sorry, Joe. Thanks for the lift," Max greeted Lissa's personal chauffeur, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at this blatant display of wealth.

Turning her attention to her friend, she resisted the urge to laugh. Lissa's leg, which looked ludicrously fat compared to its partner, stuck out from a pair of tiny denim shorts. The plastered leg was resting in the gap between to two front seats of the car.

"So, what's all this about, Lis? Are you even allowed to leave the house, being so terribly injured?"

"Piss off," the redhead retaliated, grinning in good humour. "We're going for a coffee." There was a slight undercurrent to her tone, which spoke of darker things to come, but Max brushed it away, deciding to enjoy the good-natured moment while it lasted.

"No, really. How are you even going to get out of the car?"

"I'm not _disabled_, just … hampered."

"Sure you are, Lis. So, why weren't you at school today?"

"What, you think I'd walk around with this thing?" Lissa scoffed, gesturing at her cast. "No way. I'm off school 'til they take it off."

"Then why are we venturing into public _now,_ with this ugly thing in sight?"

"Shut up. You –" Lissa's response was cut off politely, as her chauffeur spoke.

"We're here, Miss." Joe adjusted his sunglasses, straightened his tie, and relaxed back into his seat. "I'll stay here and wait for you, I presume?"

"Yes, thankyou, Joe." Lissa said primly. "But first you'll have to help me out of the car, and get me my crutches."

"What, no wheelchair?" Max quipped.

Both Lissa and Joe ignored her comment, as they were too preoccupied by the difficult task of dragging the redhead's leg out of the car door.

Max had already exited the car with speed and grace, a clear contrast to her damaged friend, despite the lack of physical fitness that she had bemoaned prior to this excursion. She ran a hand through her sun-kissed blonde hair, wondering absently why Lissa was so determined to have coffee. There must be something on the girl's mind.

What was Lissa always thinking about, then? Herself? Definitely. But even Lissa wasn't stupid enough to think that Max would want to or would tolerate spending an afternoon talking about her…

A face flashed into her mind, not startling Max in the least, as it had happened many times before, with increasing frequency. The visions were always consistently getting stronger, more emotional, more clearly in focus…

Nick.

Max was rather pleased with her amazing deduction capabilities, as she had managed to figure out Lissa's intentions with no prodding from the girl herself, and in a small amount of time.

_Well, not a small amount off time, _Max decided. _Just the time it took Lissa to get out of the car. Definitely not small._

Now successfully dreading the conversation that would ensue, Max turned her blue gaze to where Lissa was cussing at Joe, trying to manipulate her crutches. She obviously hadn't had much practise. The poor man was hovering next to the redhead's shoulder; ready to catch her if she fell, which seemed more and more likely as Max continued to observe Lissa's prowess.

Despite her reluctance to speed up the entry into the café Lissa had chosen, thus resulting in the topic of Nick coming up even more quickly, Max felt it was her duty, as Lissa's best friend to offer some friendly, helpful advice, with all the good intentions in the world.

"Hey, Lissa," Max called kindly. "They don't work if you don't stay upright. Try to stand straighter."

Lissa's sharp green eyes flashed angrily, apparently missing the honesty in Max's advice. Glaring, she raised a hand, flashing Max the finger.

"No – Lissa –"

Max's concerned call came too late. By throwing that rude gesture at Max, she'd taken her hand off one of the crutches, causing herself to finally tip over. Her arms waved wildly, trying futilely to keep her balance. The redhead shrieked as she found herself falling backwards.

Max shrugged to herself, watching Joe catch the falling teenager. She stepped away from the side of the car, walking past where Lissa was once again gripping the handles of the crutches. Looking over her shoulder, she asked, "You coming?"

Snarling unpleasantly, now in a foul mood, Lissa shrugged off her helpful chauffeur and slammed the crutches viciously down on the pavement, mastering the movement now with pure malice. Face contorted into a snarl, she manoeuvred herself past Max and into the café. Following in a more civilised manner, Max rolled her eyes. No, this was not going to be pleasant, especially not with Lissa in this mood.

Joining Lissa at a table for two by the window, Max carefully avoided the crutches that the girl had haphazardly thrown down. Taking a seat, she leaned her elbows against the small table, regarding her friend through clear blue eyes. Lissa wasn't looking at her, the angry green gaze focused on the menu she'd picked up from the centre of the table.

"What do you want?" the redhead's voice lashed out like a whip. Obviously realising how unreasonable she was being, she made a clear effort to calm herself down. Lissa had always had a hot temper. "As in, what would you like to eat? Anything to drink? I'm paying."

Relieved at the calmed tone of her friend's voice, Max smiled hesitantly and declined Lissa's offer for food. She was also about to turn down the proposal for a drink, but remembering the topic she was sure was going to be discussed, she decided upon ordering a caramel frappuccino.

Lissa grinned and nodded, previous irritation dispersing. Max found the redhead's easy mood swings disturbing and unstable, but kept the thought to herself.

Max got up to go and order their drinks. For obvious reasons, Lissa didn't accompany her, both girls wishing to prolong the cursing and pain that would occur if Lissa tried to walk again.

"A small caramel frappuccino and a large espresso macchiato, thanks," Max said absently to the woman behind the counter. She paid the lady, and drifted back over to the table where Lissa was waiting.

"So what's this all about, Lis?" Max asked, although she was sure she already knew the answer.

Lissa pursed her pink lips delicately, her fine red brows furrowing. "Well, you know how you came to see me at the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"You seemed pretty … interested … in Nick," Lissa's eyes were fixed upon Max's features, scrutinising her face for a reaction.

Knowing this, Max didn't allow herself to react. "Interested?" she asked innocently. "So you'd prefer it if I'd ignored him?"

"No, no, you know what I mean. Do you _like _him?"

"No!" Max said, but as soon as she spoke, she knew she'd said it too fast, as Lissa's eyes had narrowed.

"Max, Nick is _mine_. I found him first."

Max fought back the ridiculous urge to argue with her friend, as it was quite obvious that _she _had seen him first, that time on the bus, when Sam had pointed him out to her. Instead, she participated in a silent glaring contest with her friend, both stares matched with intensity.  
The fun was interrupted as the waitress brought the two coffees over.

"Here you go," she said cheerfully, setting the tray down on the table. "Enjoy!"

An awkward silence reigned as both girls picked up their cups, consuming the hot liquid inside.

Glancing away from the redhead, looking out the window, Max almost dropped her hot coffee in astonishment. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyebrows rose.  
Lissa, noticing her reaction, turned to look at what had surprised Max so much. Suddenly, her face lit up, and a beaming smile plastered itself across her lips. Putting her coffee down on the table, she quickly ran her hands through her hair, arranging in nicely, and bit her lips a few times, attempting to colour the light pink slightly darker. She straightened her sleeveless top, brushing at imaginary crumbs.

Meanwhile, Max had closed her hanging jaw, and was resuming the act of sipping at her coffee. She pretended not to notice as the topic of her and Lissa's previous argument walked with unconscious grace up to their table.

Lissa followed her lead, ignoring Nick as he approached them. When he stopped at their table, both girls looked up in feigned surprise, as if they hadn't noticed him before.

"I need to speak to you," Nick said, dark eyes urgent. "Alone." he added, face taught and wary.

Lissa's eyes shone, and she looked up at him with undisguised adoration. "Of course!" she said delightedly. "You'll have to help me though," she said, revelling in the thought of Nick's hands actually touching her.

Nick looked confused for a moment, then his calculating eyes widened with unease. "I was talking to Max," he said uncomfortably, not looking at the redhead who was wilting with disappointment and spiteful anger.

Max frowned with surprise. This would only complicate her relationship with Lissa further. "Maybe another time?" she suggested half-heartedly. "We're kind of busy…" her voice trailed off as Nick's eyes darkened with anger.

"No," he said, his voice perfectly controlled. "Now."

He nodded stiffly to Lissa, grabbing Max's arm and pulling her to her feet. Max shot an apologetic look at Lissa, murmuring to her that she'd 'be back soon'. Lissa merely sighed, sinking deeper into her wooden chair. She waved sadly at Max, apparently accepting the inevitable.

Max's heart clenched as she left her best friend sitting forlornly by herself, but Nick's grip was strong and immovable. She followed him outside, and around to the side of the coffee shop, to a small alleyway that was overhung with trees from the neighbouring gardens.

"How did you know where I was?" Max demanded, feeling guilty for ditching her friend.  
Nick gave a humourless smile. "Here, there is nowhere you can hide," he said, and the coldness and hopelessness in his voice made Max shiver.

Despite her uneasiness at his comment, which she found to be slightly unsettling, giving Nick the aura of some kind of stalker, her glare hardened. "What do you want?"

Nick hesitated. There were so many things he wanted, but he was unsure of which desires to unveil to her. He began to reply, but his voice stopped immediately when he noticed the expression on Max's face. It was one he recognised well, and one that struck a chord of fear within his being.

Max herself was no longer waiting for Nick's answer. Her delicate hands gripped her head with all her strength, and she fought to hold back the pitiful moans that threatened to escape her mouth. Her eyes were squeezed shut in an attempt to stop tears of pain flowing down her cheeks. Her knees gave out, and she slowly sunk to the ground, face contorted in a terrible grimace of pain. Disjointed and unconnected images flashed through her head – newspaper cuttings, pictures of people, representations of DNA …

Nick watched in horror, aware that there was nothing he could do to help her, knowing from past experience that all he could do was wait it out with her, whispering sweet nothings in her unhearing ears. He dropped to his knees beside her, ignoring the jarring pain, and wrapped his arms around her violently trembling form.

"Shh, Max, it's okay, I've got you…" he murmured soothingly, eyes shining with unexpected and rare tears at the suffering of the girl who was everything to him.

"Oh, God," he whispered to the false blue sky, beseeching someone to come and save her from this torment. He would willingly take the burden of pain upon himself, anything to spare her the agony.

Unbeknownst to him, four other pairs of eyes, two baby blue one brown and one colourless, gazed down at them from above, two faces scrunched up with tears, one twisted with helpless sadness and the other etched with confusion and dread.

Slowly, Max's fingers began to unclench from her blonde head. Her body relaxed, and the blue eyes opened. She lowered her arms to her side; cheeks wet with tears, and gazed at the boy beside her, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. His eyes were closed, dark lashes brushing his cheeks, and his lips were still muttering words of comfort. She wondered at the solitary tear that had tracked its way down his face, and reached out a finger to brush it away.

As her digit came into contact with his skin, his eyes snapped open, instantly alert and cautious, eyes searching her face. His gaze travelled down to her hand, which had brushed against his cheek, then back up to her clear blue gaze.

"Max?" he asked, voice hoarse, tone hesitant.

In answer, Max smiled shakily, mind still recovering from the brutal onslaught of pain.

Nick sighed with relief, his tense muscles easing slightly. Without thinking, he buried his face in her shoulder.

The three watchers also exhaled unsteadily, the owner of the brown eyes explaining the situation to the one that was sightless. Turning away from the scene, the watchers gave the two teenagers privacy.

"Nick?" Max whispered, eyes wide as she watched the boy, who hadn't lifted his head. Hesitantly, she placed her arms around him. He raised his head to watch her, and then tightened his arms. They stayed in that position, giving each other comfort, for countless minutes.

Suddenly, Nick's watch beeped, startling them both. Nick leaped up, pulling Max up with him. "I have to go," he said hurriedly.

Max nodded, bewildered at the abrupt farewell. She held her breath as their eyes locked. Nick's expression was torn. He was reluctant to leave. Obviously debating internally, he leaned towards her and pressed his soft lips to her cheek in farewell. Then he turned and left, turning a corner and disappearing out of sight.

Max's hazy blue gaze stared absently at the spot where she'd last seen him disappear, a hand pressed to her cheek where he'd kissed her. Shaking herself, she let out a trembling laugh, wiped her eyes and followed the direction he'd taken back to the coffee shop. Remembering that there was something that he had urgently needed to discuss with her, she wondered what it was. In all the confusion after her moment of extreme pain they'd both forgotten.

Max shrugged to herself, sure that he'd remember to talk to her about it later.

Nick's feet pounded against the pavement as he sprinted to his destination, away from Max. Suddenly, they halted. _Shit_. He'd forgotten. He'd forgotten to warn her… Shaking his head in anger, he cursed again, realising he didn't have time to go back and tell her. He could only hope she'd be okay.

xxxxx

A/N- okay, okay, before I launch into my pathetically inadequate excuses as to why this chapter is so bloody late, I just have to say one thing… This chapter was 7 whole pages on Microsoft Word! Not including the disclaimer and this Author's Note. Cool, huh?

So, okay, it's horribly late, and I'm shocked, you're shocked, I'm disgusted, you're disgusted … but I've gotten myself hooked on another section of FF(dot)net and I was finding it difficult to tear myself away from my greedy reading to put back to the community. Also, I was feeling lethargic and a more than a little ill.

But it's here now, only thanks to the pushing of my friend maximum-calories who even discussed my lack of updating over the phone … so it's here now despite the first three quarters of it being a little … boring, and I can start work on the next one. It's a never-ending cycle, I tell ya.

And to prove my contriteness towards the lateness of this, I'm not even going to sarcastically threaten you into reviewing!

Shadowseeker170 – Yes, I definitely agree with your opinion about the last chapter – that it was missing something. I'm glad you actually said so, too. Good to know I'm not being unnecessarily critical of my work. I have a second opinion! XD Really, though, thanks muchly.

MRACR – Wow. I never actually considered making Sam _evil_. He's more sort of an innocent dickhead, lol. Haha, I reckon I like your idea of what should've happened better than what I wrote. It's probably more in character of Fnick, too, rather than him actually ((gasp)) _apologising_. Oh, just so you know, I was joking about putting a bomb in your ear. However … you might want to enjoy the remaining time you have left with your fingers …


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: ((can't talk now – working on plot to steal Iggy from the Flock's sinister, yet sadly legal, clutches ))

xxxxx

Fang stirred, brows weakly furrowed with pain, a slight groan emerging reluctantly from his lips. Suddenly he sucked in a deep breath of air, relishing his awareness of breathing in actual air. His eyes fluttered open, pupils dilating, adjusting to the harsh artificial light that made the stark white walls of the room he was in shine with a sharp radiance.

His head hurt abominably, and he could feel two patches of extreme irritation on his temples. He tried to raise a hand to rub at the source of the itching, but his limbs were sluggish, as if he'd been lying on the floor for a long period of time.

Which he had.

With great effort, he opened his mouth, forcing his heavy tongue to move.

"Nudge!" he croaked, scowling internally at the weakness of his voice. He wasn't quite up to moving so many facial muscles just yet.

Despite the pathetically soft tone of his voice, a door swung open, cracking against the wall. Fang tried to wince at the pain, managing only a slightly harder expel of air.

"You idiot," the dark skinned girl hissed, walking over to where he lay slumped on the cold floor. "We _told _you to talk to Max!"

Fang blinked wearily. He tried to speak, to defend himself against the angry girl, who was, in fact, three years younger than him. She was having none of it.

"This isn't Max. That girl … she's who Max could have been, without all of this." Nudge snapped, gesturing vaguely at her back. "I thought we'd been through this. She is a normal girl, not prepared to deal with anything slightly out of the ordinary. You saw what happened when you tried to tell her the truth. And the visions she's having – you might not be able to see it, Fang, but it's tearing her apart. She thinks she's going insane. _You needed to warn her_."

"Nudge…" Fang spoke weakly. "I know this. I fucked up. I'm sorry."

Dark eyes softening slightly at his strained voice, Nudge reached down and plucked the two electrodes off his temples. "We're not sure what's going to happen. I just know that Sam's going to try something. It's part of his nature – he doesn't handle rejection well." Nudge's nose wrinkled. "There's something abnormal in his programming. I'm … He's not like the other kids they've made. He's dangerous."

Fang's shoulders slumped. "Damn it," he snapped, strength slowly returning to his body.

Reaching out, Nudge hauled him up. "Come on," she said soothingly. "It'll be okay. Let's go get you some food. You haven't eaten all day. How does a couple of roasted desert rats sound to you?"

Fang's lips tugged up into a reluctant grin at the younger girl's teasing. "I could eat anything right now, I think." he admitted sheepishly, allowing himself to be led out of the room, leaving behind the extensive array of computer equipment. He'd be returning there soon.

When the pair entered the next room, Fang wasn't greeted with the usual enthusiasm.

Iggy was sitting in a corner, fiddling around with some batteries and a couple of strands of wire. He glanced up when Fang and Nudge entered the room, face falling into an angry frown.

Angel was sitting curled up next to Gazzy, tear tracks stained into her flawless skin. Her blue eyes blinked sadly up at Fang, and she offered a small, trembling smile. Gazzy's eyes, identical to his sister's, were fixed on the screen in front of him. The boy was leaning forward, looking as if he was trying to enter into the computer through the glass.

"Great work today, Fang." Iggy's voice rang out harshly through the small room.

Fang glanced in his direction, but remained silent. Freeing himself from Nudge's helping hands, he walked over to a spare chair next to Gazzy and joined him, staring at the screen.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Iggy's face had darkened when Fang gave him no response. "_Don't you know what you've done?_"

"Iggy, shut up," Nudge snapped, looking slightly panicked. "Just shut up." Reaching into one of the many bags dumped unceremoniously in a heap, she brought out a bag of chips and an apple, carrying them over to Fang. He accepted them with murmured thanks, instantly beginning to devour the food.

"I'm sorry, Iggy." he said, swallowing a mouthful of food.

"You're _sorry?_ Do you know how long it took Nudge to get a line through to you? We told you to warn Max!" Iggy shouted.

Fang, ever a perceptive boy, narrowed his eyes. "What exactly was it about Sam that she needed to be warned about?"

Iggy opened his mouth to shout again, but Nudge interrupted. "Shut up, Iggy," she said for the third time. Then she directed her attention to Fang. "You remember how I said just then that there was an abnormal streak in Sam's programming?" At Fang's nod, she continued. "Like I said, it's dangerous. He's not the Sam that we knew. Not that Sam that Max used to know. He's something darker, but that darker streak hadn't been triggered before. Max's rejection has flicked something inside him. I'm not sure if the whitecoats made him this way intentionally, or if it's some mutation or virus in the system."  
"How do you know this?" Fang asked, trying to fight down the fear rising up inside him. "How bad is it?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Nudge said softly. "I'd been watching Sam today, because he always says really stupid stuff in Maths – he's so dumb, honestly. It makes me laugh. But today he was different. Something about him wasn't right. I kept tabs on him. It got worse when Max wasn't on the bus. When he got home he became violent, and destroyed part of his room. He's now waiting for Max at her house."

"Shit," Fang swore, choosing to chew his lip in favour of his food.

"We needed to get Max to stay away from Sam until he calms down. But it's too late now. We're not sure what's going to happen, but I'm sure it won't be good."

"This is your fault!" Iggy yelled at Fang. His sightless eyes were wide with anger and helplessness. "We can't do anything to help her!"

"Since Max isn't part of the original system, I can't instruct her to go elsewhere. In a way, she has free will. And Sam … I can't access him at all anymore. I can't read his intentions, nor relocate him somewhere else. It's out of my control." Nudge's voice trailed off. She'd spent hours agonising over the predicament, trying to alter the impending events, but there was no success for the young computer genius. Running her hands distractedly through her dark, wavy hair, she squeezed her eyes shut. "It scares me." she said bluntly.

"Guys!" Gazzy spoke for the first time, his voice cracking out like a whip. Iggy stayed in his corner, as no matter how close he was to the screen, he still wouldn't be able to see anything. Angel sat up in her chair, peering anxiously over her brother's shoulder. Exchanging a glance, Nudge and Fang also leaned closer.

Breath catching in his through, Fang watched silently as Max got out of the expensive car, farewelling her red haired friend and Joe the chauffeur.

Smiling absently, the blonde girl swung her schoolbag over her shoulder and opened the front gate to her house. She slowly walked down the path, unaware of the glow the setting sun basked on her slender form. Reaching the porch, she skipped up the steps, fumbling in her bag for her keys. Despite her apparently carefree actions, the watching children could tell something was on the girl's mind. Something was troubling her. Finally managing to locate her keys, she stuck them into the keyhole, twisted, and opened the door.

"Mom!" she called. "I'm home!"

Dumping her bag next to the umbrella stand, she loosened her school tie and pulled her blonde hair out of its cursory ponytail.

"Max!" a brunette woman beamed. "How was coffee with Lis? Is her leg okay?"

"It was all right," Max shrugged, eyes tightening slightly at the memory of the pain.

"How was school?"

"The usual…"

Nodding, Max's mother flashed her daughter another smile, and began to bounce back into the kitchen. Stopping suddenly, she remembered. "Oh, Maxie?" she called to the girl, who was already heading for the stairs.

"Yes, mom?" Max called back.

"That lovely boy Sam popped in."

"Oh." Max's face fell, emotionless mask sliding into place. She turned towards the stairs again.

"He's waiting for you in your room, hun." the brunette smiled, and skipped into the kitchen, humming to herself.

Max's jaw clenched angrily. That boy just couldn't leave her alone, could he? What did he want this time?

Dragging her feet, the blonde girl traipsed up the stairs, heading towards her room where Sam was waiting for her.

xxxxx

A/N – Short. Really short. I know! Late, too late considering it's shortness. I know! Sorry! I actually have a long and detailed excuse as to why this is. But I won't waste your time with it, as you probably don't want to hear it.

I usually would've made this longer, and not ended it there, but I wanted to put something up today. And I'm getting kicked off the computer like, right now, by a furious parental.

Shadowseeker170 - I ... I, uh, don't exactly know what Tourettes means... I think you might have to spell that one out for me. As in explain in detail. Please? XD My vocabulary isn't what it used to be... And, brutal? Well ... maybe ... tactfully honest? To save my failing self-esteem?

WRITE NOW - I wrote, I wrote! Not immediately, but a few days after? Not too bad, eh? Eh? And, yup, Lissa's the awesome redhead who follows Fang around like a puppy. Cool, huh? We love Lissa!

nudge343 - Lol, sorry man, this _is _the real Max. The real Max, in all her stupid, forgetful glory. You're stuck with her XD Sorry!! And I'm not sure if I can change my plot ( not that your suggestion would involve changing it _too_ much... ) this late into the story. I mean, I'm almost done!

:)kLoO(: - Soon, my friend, soon, Max will realise that she's a complete idiot, and has forgotten everything... You're annoyed because she's so boring? Apart from the occasional spacing outs and brain attacks, she's just like everyone else? Well ... that's the way it is, for now, anyway XD

HIBYE - Mmm, yeah, blue eyes definitely go better with Max's character, I think. Glad you agree.

So thanks for taking the time to read this crappy instalment, which will be elaborated on soon! Review if you can. If you can't, I'm telling you that's a whole lot of decaying dead animal matter, and that you're lying not only to me, but to yourself, because all it takes is the click of a button and the tapping of a few keys…


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Collaborating with my partner in crime to devise a plan to kidnap Iggy that _won't _involve me ending up in hospital like last time. Namely, one where I _don't _have to face an angry Gazzy. Or Max. Oh, Jesus, not Fang again. Angel is scary when she's mad – her eyes are like blue shards of ice, ready to pierce your heart without remorse…

xxxxx

"No, Max!" Gazzy shouted at the screen, looking for all the world like a normal boy shouting at the television, perhaps watching a game of football. It was a far cry from the truth. "You idiot, you _fucking _idiot!"

None of his friends, who were really more like his family, bothered to rebuke the eight year old for his cussing. Similar thoughts were running through their own heads.

Leaping up, a dark eyed boy turned to the oldest girl. "Can't I go back in there? I could stop it – take her away somewhere…"

The girl looked sad. "No, Fang. You know the link needs to recharge overnight. It needs at _least _seven and a half hours before it can be used again."

Fang subsided, returning to his seat. A small blonde girl looked up at him sadly, reaching out and placing a tiny hand on his forearm. Fang flinched at the contact, then relaxed, dark eyes flicking to the girl, then returning to the screen.

"Sorry, Fang," the strawberry blond spoke up from the corner, voice contrite. His sightless eyes were staring at the floor, his hands twisting themselves into intricate knots in his lap.

"S'all right, Ig," the dark haired boy said softly, knowing the blow Iggy's pride would have taken, apologising to him.

Nothing more was said.

The quintet watched and, in one case, waited, in agonised suspense as the blonde girl inside the screen that they were staring fixatedly at reached the top of the stairs. Though none of them would admit it, they felt a morbid curiosity for what was to come, although given the chance; they would all do anything they could to prevent what was to occur from happening.

…

Max's temper was threatening to explode from the tight bonds she had tied it with. Instead of going red, her face had turned a deathly pale, an odd characteristic of hers. Fist carefully slack, shoulders determinedly relaxed and enunciating each step with precision, she stalked to her room. Her _private _room, which was apparently being invaded by an obnoxious, persistent, annoying, ignorant –

"Sam?" Max asked quizzically, furious thoughts stopped in their tracks. She'd opened the door, vision hazy with rage, which perhaps was a little out of proportion to the situation. An odd sight had greeted her. Sam was standing rigidly in the centre of her haven, shoulders taught, arms clenched painfully to his side. At the sound of her voice, his head twitched to the side, shoulder coming up to meet it.

Now, Max wasn't a girl to get scared easily, what with all the crazy, unexplainable visions she'd been experiencing, not to mention the agonisingly painful brain attacks. But this was a situation that instilled a paralysing fear within her, freezing her limbs, rooting her to the spot. It occurred to her that she should, perhaps, call out to her mother, who was blissfully whiling away time in the kitchen.

Max couldn't even pinpoint what exactly had inspired this terror. Her wide blue eyes scrutinised the still, yet not still form before her. _Yes_, Max thought, _definitely the twitching. That really scares the shit out of me._

"Close the door, Max." the figure's voice crept across the room, slimy and mildly threatening. Max was reluctant to label this person as Sam, the boy who'd been one of her closest friends since before she could remember. This predatory voice had _nothing _to do with the sweet and innocent kid she'd loved as a brother.

Movements jerky and stilted, Max stepped forwards and closed the door softly behind her.

…

Meanwhile, in the computer room, the five kids were each singing their own symphony of despair in their minds. Angel, unfortunately, was privy to all of them, and the strain was plain to see on her small, young face. She'd latched onto Gazzy's arm with the strength of a crocodile's jaws, and had no intentions of letting go. Fang had allowed Nudge to bury her face in his shoulder, secretly glad for the comfort, and the reassurance that someone was feeling just as horrified and useless as he was. Iggy could see nothing, and his mind tormented him with scenarios of what could be unfolding upon the screen. He did not ask the others what was happening, and the others did not offer. He could, however, hear everything that was said in clear detail. He deduced that nothing violent had happened as yet. The sound of Sam's voice made him flinch with disgust. It also struck a memory within him.

"That – that voice," he said hoarsely, voice grating with stress. His revulsion at his sudden epiphany was written all over his face.

The other three said nothing, and then Angel, reading each of their minds, spoke for them. "We know," she said, voice tremulous and small.

…

"Sam?" Max forced the word out from her trembling lips. Why were they trembling? All the guy had done so far was ask her … politely … to close the door. She watched the boy closely, debating whether to reach towards him, and try to help him through whatever was bothering him, or wrench open the door again, and run screaming to her mother. She was swinging slightly towards the first option, fear influencing her thinking, and then her rebellious teenaged attitude kicked in. She was Maxine Williams. She did not need her mother to do everything for her. She didn't realise how much she'd regret allowing her foolish pride to cloud her decisions.

"Sam, are you okay? Do you need a doctor? You're … twitching." Max forced the quivery shake from her voice, pulling herself into mobility. She hesitantly stepped forwards, stretching out a slightly shaking hand. Steeling herself, she placed it on the boy's shoulder.

Sam jerked spasmodically, hand shooting out impossibly fast to grip her wrist with unbelievable strength.

Max gasped in pain. She could almost feel the delicate bones in her arm buckling under the pressure. Tears sprung inadvertently to her eyes, a reflexive response to the pain. Oh, this was _wrong_. Since when was Sam ever this strong?

She tugged at her arm, hoping to dislodge Sam's vicelike grip on her wrist. With almost inhuman speed, Sam whipped around, his face suddenly inches away from hers.

The grotesque mask that greeted Max was shocking. Sam's face seemed to be a mass of motion. It was trembling furiously, with an energy that was completely abhorrent to Max. She forced herself not to gag, or flinch away. Her blue eyes remained steady, and she opened her mouth to speak. She did not expect Sam to leap at the opportunity, pressing his convulsing face to hers, thrusting his tongue between her parted lips. Max gagged. She was filled with disgust at the sensation of the slimy, wet muscle invading her mouth.

Shuddering, she gathered herself and shoved her attacker away from her, coughing and gasping.

"What the _fuck?_" she panted, backing away from the boy, eyes wide. She'd never seen this in Sam before – the aggression and violence. It was completely alien to her. Glancing up at 'Sam', she stopped. There was agonising conflict showing in his eyes, as if there were two parts to him, warring against the other. He growled, one part obviously overpowering the other. She wasn't sure whether to be glad the twitching had stilled, or worried at which side of him had gained dominance.

Shivering, Max moved towards the door, obviously rethinking her two options, choosing the other. But her decision had been made. It was already too late.

…

There was a deathly silence in the room, punctuated only by Angel's soft sobbing. Four pairs of eyes were wide with horror, unable to tear their gazes away from the screen. Iggy was slumped in his corner, hands fisted over his ears, tears running down his cheeks. He had heard Max's gasp of pain, the sounds of her choking in disgust. Nudge was silently stifling her cries, face muffled by Fang's shoulder. Gazzy and Fang didn't cry. Gazzy had to be strong for Max. She'd always called him her 'little trooper', and he wasn't going to let her down.

He wrapped his small arms around the shaking form of his younger sister, offering the only comfort he could give.

Fang's dark eyes were blank, his face expressionless. He had radiated fury and desperation before, but all the fight had gone out of him when that creature had touched Max. There was nothing he could do, and it was useless to rail against the hopeless. He watched impassively, ignoring the part of his mind that was crying endlessly, shoving it away. His face gave no sign of his inner torment.

…

Max had put up a fight. Of course, it had done nothing for her. She'd uttered a forlorn plea for help as he overpowered her, knowing even as she released the sound it would do her no good. Her mother would hear nothing, in her delightful stupor as she worked in the kitchen, with the radio turned up loud. There was no one to hear her, no one to help.

"Nick…" she had moaned as Sam snapped one of her fingers to encourage her silence, biting back a scream as she heard the crunch of bone. She was unaware of how it made the said boy tense in his plastic chair. She didn't know the almost unbearable pain it caused him, to know that Maximum Ride, Maxine Williams, had finally admitted weakness and called to him for help, and he was unable to be there for her. How could she?

Sam's eyes were furious with jealousy. "Max," he cooed. "I don't want to hurt you. I want you to be happy,"

Max had struggled, common sense overridden by panic. The monster's face had fell into a frightening frown, features taking on a wolfish appeal. He raised a hand that was looking more clawed by the second and slapped her viciously across the face.

"Don't struggle," he snapped, eyes alight with rage, and also ... desperate affection?

His face had relaxed, the faint appearance of a wolf banished, becoming serene and almost childlike, the desire and lust that had filled his eyes gone. He was straddling her legs, hands holding her arms down. His eyes gazed down at her, an oxymoron of crazed intensity and gentleness.

Max's jaw ached from the blow he had dealt her, stunned with the power he was able to summon. Her snapped finger ached with a fierce intensity. Worst of all, though, was the deep unease Sam's unwavering stare provoked within her. She decided she wasn't going to stay there any longer, underneath this obviously troubled boy. Gathering herself, she shifted slightly, and then sharply brought her knee up into Sam's groin.

He gasped and fell off her. Max seized the opportunity, leaping to her feet, and turning raggedly towards the door. Stumbling, her breath coming in sobbing gasps, Max reached the door, thrusting out a hand to grab the handle. She hadn't anticipated the speed of Sam's recovery, and was taken by surprise when a hand shot out, grabbing her ankle. The fingers were like rods of steel, and she could feel them imprinting bruises into her flawless flesh.

The hand tugged, pulling her to the ground. She fell heavily, slamming her head on the door.

"You _bitch_," Sam snarled angrily, face beginning to elongate. Max watched in soundless horror as a snout and jaws sprouted forth from his previously human face. Sam laughed. It was not a happy sound. "You'll pay, Max." he said, threats sounding juvenile and immature, but terrifying nonetheless. "You're gonna be so sorry…"

Max snapped her eyes shut as the first fist flew towards her face. It cracked into her nose, drawing instant blood. She cried out, hands rising up to protect herself. Sam growled and shoved them down, letting loose another fist.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Crack._

Max felt something snap. By this time, the pain was fading slightly, to be replaced by a dull detachment. It was as if she was floating loose from the sensation, all Earthly ties being severed. She was aware of the blood dripping from her face, staining her clothes, and coating Sam's bruised knuckles. Dimly, she was aware of him standing up and drawing a booted foot back to kick her viciously in the ribs.

…

Angel had stopped watching. She had now pressed her face into Gazzy's arm and was showing no signs of emerging. Nudge had left in tears to direct Iggy to the bathroom. Despite being able to see nothing, the sounds he could hear so much more sharply than his friends had brought on a horrible nausea. Only Fang and Gazzy were left watching, staring fixatedly at the screen and their faces were pallid with horror.

"Max," Gazzy whimpered, reaching out to the screen. His eyes were filled with tears, but he refused to let them spill. Fang watched, face as emotionless as ever, but despite his cool façade, a single tear tracked its way down his dark cheek. He had slumped his head into his hands, dark hair covering most of his face, dark eyes not once leaving the prone and bloody figure of Max.

Suddenly, the screen began to lose focus. The sound cut off, and Max's soft sobs could no longer be heard. The pixels began to fade, one by one, blinking out like stars disappearing from the sky.

"Nudge!" Fang called out in panic, eyes wide. He watched in terror as Max's image began to disintegrate from the screen, reaching out a trembling hand as if he could somehow hold her there. A message blinked onto the screen.

**Technical Difficulties.**

"W-what's happening?" Gazzy asked, turning his haggard face to Fang. Fang shook his head wordlessly, calling again for Nudge.

Torn, he stared first at the flashing screen, then at the door. "Stay here," he said to Gazzy. "Call me if anything changes."

The Gasman nodded solemnly, explaining the situation in hushed tones to Angel. The blonde girl's tears hadn't halted, and her blue eyes focused desperately on her brother as if he was her lifeline.

Fang left the room at full sprint, running through the deserted white hallways, skidding around a corner. He barely noticed where he was going, mind replaying the image of Max's blood covered figure over and over in his mind. Glancing up, he slowed just enough not to knock over the two figures he had run into. "Nudge," he gasped, "You have to come,"

Nudge didn't ask questions, only tugged Iggy's arm, indicating that he should run too and set off back towards the computer room.

"What happened?" Iggy asked, his face etched with worry.

"The computer cut out. Something happened."

They reached the computer room, all three balking slightly at the eerie green glow that illuminated the cold space. Frowning, Nudge hurried to the computer, firing questions at Gazzy as her fingers spread like spiders across the keys. Nodding her head, she frowned in concentration, tapping in passwords and codes. Fang, Iggy and Gazzy waited in agonised suspense, knowing not to interrupt the girl. Angel was studying Nudge intently, following her process. Finally Nudge sighed and sat back.

"The whitecoats intervened." she said, rubbing a hand across her brow. "Apparently, it wasn't their plan for Sam to be such a complete psycho. I traced Sam's digital code back, and it looks like he was corrupted someone entering the system. In the same way you did," she said, directing the statement at Fang, "except that they didn't have me there to create a profile for them in the system. Instead, they used an already existing one."

Her listeners nodded as if they understood. Nudge sighed.

"The problem with this is that this is an extremely detailed simulation. People have their own distinct personality. Most of them are real people, such as Sam and Lissa, and have been programmed to act almost exactly as they would in real life. This causes problems if someone broadcasts himself or herself into one of these Sims. It's like having two people in one body. Both have their own natures that are impossible to ignore. Sam was able to cope with another set of characteristics for a while, as he's quite flexible. But the outsider apparently doesn't take well to rejection. This violence spiked from Sam's sadness from when Max turned him down. I'd say the other side of Sam, the corrupted part, took over. Sam never would've usually done something like that…"

The others were silent, processing the information. "So what did the whitecoats do?" Gazzy asked.

"It seems they destroyed or removed the intruder, and managed to undo what happened."

"So Max isn't half dead, now?" Iggy asked bluntly.

"No. But due to Max not being part of the original system, she'll retain her memories of the encounter; just have nothing to show for it. Depending on how good their computer guy is she might be able to feel her injuries. That's unlikely, though, seeing as they managed to make this whole thing… It's pretty complicated."

Iggy nodded. "I'll take your word for it," he said. "So Max is okay?"

"Physically, yeah."

Relieved smiles abounded in the room. Fang's face, however, remained blank. Max would still remember. He couldn't rejoice in this, knowing the mental torture she'd be going through.

"So who was the outsider?" Gazzy asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Nudge shrugged. "The traits and thought patterns seemed awfully familiar, though…" her voice trailed off. Then she brightened. "The monitor should be back on soon, when the whitecoats have finished removing all traces of corruption from the system. I'm surprised they didn't notice it sooner. That's good, though, I guess. We wouldn't want them to find out about us…"

The Flock chatted happily, doing their best to forget about the trauma they'd just experienced. Fang stayed where he was, not joining in. He stared at the blank screen, waiting for Max to appear again.

xxxxx

**A/N – Oh, yuck. That was horrible. Sorry if the switching view was too confusing, or anything. I originally didn't have the little dots there to separate the two settings, but reading back through, I myself got lost, so I thought I'd put them in there.**

**Despite the fact it all just flowed from my fingertips, I'm not satisfied with this. I mean, I said everything I wanted to, glossed over the more bloody and violent parts, but … gah! Ah, well. Close enough to what I want. So it'll do. For now.**

**Thank God for Nudge's computer abilities, though. Makes it easy to explain myself.**

**And, oh, my God!! Chapter one – oh!! Number 10!! Double digits!! Wow!! **

**Reviews…**

Ali – No, I'm glad for your nit-picking. I've always had difficult with POVs. I probably did even worse with them this chapter. Next chapter I'll look up what third person and omniscient is, and try to keep it all in line. I really should've listened in English this year… Verbs are something I've always understood. I like verbs. Thanks so much for your review – both the amazing compliments and the advice on the POVs.

nudge343 – I … I'm flattered, honestly. But I wouldn't feel right, taking a plot you thought up yourself and writing it. I think that it'll be way more fulfilling for you if you write it out. You'll get there eventually ;D

MRACR – 2 months! Okay, yeah, self-esteem went up a bit there. Mine was only a week or something. Iggy. Yeah, funny, I was actually going to have a line in there where Fang shouts at Iggy about him going into the damn computer and doing a better job, but I thought better of it. Not really Fang's style, I don't think. Maybe Nudge could've screamed it at him. I love Nudge. Oh, and I've recruited you now as my 'partner in crime'. We'll steal Iggy. You can have him on Mondays, Thursdays and Sundays.

WRITE NOW – Lol, of course you were mentioned. I can't just _not _reply to a review. Glad to see you didn't think the last chapter was too horrible. Thanks for reading, and – look! I wrote fastly!

**So, thanks y'all for reading. Looks like we're nearing the beginning of the end. I think. What do **_**you **_**think? ( that was a tactfully, subtly discreet way to ask you to review. Be thankful I'm too worn out from writing all this to threaten you with death or horrible maiming. )**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: No. Just, no.

xxxxx

Max walked into the school cafeteria, blue eyes vacant, completely oblivious to the stares that were aimed her way. She must have looked like the living dead, with her big empty eyes and stark white face. She couldn't muster the energy to plaster an expression – any expression – onto her face, and really, what did it matter? What was the point of pretending to be something you're not?

Still in her trance-like state, she made her way to the queue of people waiting for food. Taking a tray, she waited patiently for her turn, ignoring the conversations going on around her. She stared blankly at the blonde head of the girl in front of her, and was interested to notice that there were many different colours that made up the shining mass of hair. Searching, she could find a platinum blonde colour, straw yellow, a silky golden shade and the occasionally autumn red. Max fingered her own hair and wondered if her head was also such a concord of colour.

She didn't react when the lunch lady, her head of greasy hair pulled back from her face by a net, ladled her a large spoonful of pasta. Max murmured her thanks, and moved on, neglecting to pick up a piece of bread, but taking a bottle of juice from the fridge. She paid the woman at the cashier and headed to the table she usually sat at.

Max sat. She was thankful for the lack of company, and lowered her eyes to her food and focused her attention solely on the green-coloured concoction before her. If she studied something intently enough, not allowing anything else in, then perhaps she could forget, and maybe she wouldn't be tormented by the memory of pain and blood.

Hurriedly, she returned her thoughts to the pasta. The green colour reminded her of grass. It looked as if someone had got quite a lot of grass, put it in a blender, and then dumped the puree on top of the overcooked spaghetti.

"Max," a voice greeted. Max's attention was torn from her food, and she glanced up.

_Bam! A hard fist thudded hard into her nose, causing blood to drip from her face, running off her chin and staining her clothes._

Max's fork fell from her weakened grasp, clattering onto the table. She quailed at the sight of his face, though the boy in front of her couldn't see it. In reality, her expression hadn't changed once. "Sam," she said dispassionately, effortlessly mastering the fear and revulsion that rose up inside her at the sight of the boy. It wasn't difficult – her terror of the boy was just a by-product of a crazy dream, anyway. Dreams weren't real. She didn't believe in dreams...

"Mind if I sit here?" Sam asked, and promptly sat down, without waiting for an answer. Max regretted the loss of opportunity to tell him that she would much rather it if he could go find somewhere else to sit. Dream or not, what she was feeling and seeing was freaking her out. Instead, she shrugged, looking anywhere but at his face.

_Crack! A booted foot crashed into her ribs, causing a sharp pain to spring up instantly._

Max blanched internally, struggling to control her thoughts. She fixed her gaze on her green pasta again, as that had seemed to work well until Sam had arrived. Taking a cautious nibble of a forkful of the food, she decided that it was perhaps supposed to be some form of pesto sauce. Another bite helped her decide that perhaps just a dash of green food colouring had been added into the recipe. Thankfully Sam had seemed to notice that she wasn't in the mood for conversation, and said nothing, eating his food quietly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Sam eating, and Max staring intently at her food, analysing the shape, texture and colour of the concoction, feeling faintly nauseous after just those two bites.

Another tray clattered onto the table, a few stray pieces of pasta going flying. The sound jolted Max from her trance, and she glanced up.

_Smack! Her head snapped to the side as an open palm slapped her across her right cheek._

"Can you even believe I was forced to come to school today?" the owner of the haphazardly handled tray complained. "I can hardly bloody walk… why do we even sit right at the back of the cafeteria, anyway? Do you know how hard it is to walk with these sticks? You'll have to wait for me next time, Max, and carry my food for me."

Max realised that Lissa was talking to her, and that a response was expected. "Okay…"

Sam frowned at her unresponsiveness and vague tone, but Lissa was too busy complaining about her bandaged leg to notice. She carried on talking, unaware that her two friends were no longer listening.

"Hey, Max?" Sam whispered softly, "Are you okay? You're acting kinda weird…" he reached out a hand and touched her shoulder.

_Snap! She felt sickened as he snapped her wrist, wondering how she was ever going to come back from something like this…_

Max flinched away from him, visible fear flashing across her face. "I'm fine," she snapped hurriedly, "Rough couple of nights…"

"Oh. Anything you want to talk about?" Sam's face was etched with compassion, and he stretched out a hand to touch her again. Max avoided him and leapt up.

"No, thanks." _You've done enough. _Max bit back the other words she had been about to spill. Sam had done nothing wrong. But she couldn't stay here any longer. Grabbing her tray, she left her two friends staring after her perplexedly. She dumped her tray, and quickly left the cafeteria.

Once she was out of sight of the large room, she broke into a slight run, desperate to get away, heading for the library. As soon as she entered the library, she let out a breath of pent up tension she didn't know she had been holding; the quiet aura of the place enveloped her, soothing her damaged nerves. Walking over to one of the shelves, she picked out a book and headed to the corner of the room that was filled with beanbags.

Curling up on the soft lump of material, she allowed herself to drift away, embedding herself into the story, leaving her own life, her own problems and worries behind.

xxxxx

Sam and Lissa frowned at each other. "What's up with Max?" Lissa asked.

"I'm not sure…" Sam replied, looking worried. "She's been acting weird lately… something's bothering her. I can tell."

He looked back at the door, as if expecting Max to appear and tell him what was on her mind. He waited, playing out the fantasy in his head. She'd pour out her heart to him, and then step closer, eyelids fluttering closed, and –

"So, what are we going to do about it?"

Sam shook himself, coming back to the present. "I don't know… are you sure we should do something? I mean, if she wanted our help, I'm sure she'd ask."

Lissa laughed, flipping her red hair. "We're her friends, silly. We're here to poke our noses into her business, and then it's up to us to fix it for her."

"Oh… okay."

Lissa smiled, green eyes alight. "Well, obviously the first thing to do is _ask _her about it. If it's nothing, she'll get angry at us for making a big thing out of … well, nothing. If there really is something bothering her, she'll mumble and mutter and give a few half-assed excuses."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Suddenly, a tall figure caught his eye. Glancing over, his face immediately fell into a scowl. Lissa noticed his stormy expression and followed his eyes. She let out a small gasp, eyes turning downwards and shoulders drooping.

Nick didn't even glance in their direction, walking over to a table to eat by himself. A couple of girls flounced over to try to talk to him, but his expression didn't lift from its emotionless mask. Lissa sighed sadly, and returned to eating her food.

Sam noticed her abrupt change in mood and stopped shooting glares at Nick to turn his eyes to the redhead next to him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Lissa gave a weak chuckle. "Nothing…" she said softly. "Just something silly…"

Sam squinted at her, not liking the downcast look on her sunny face. "No, really, Lis. What's wrong?"

Lissa sighed. "Nick."

"What about him?" Sam said stiffly, eyes narrowing.

Lissa looked at him, a faint blush coating her fair cheeks. "This is so embarrassing – talking to _you _about this…" she muttered. Sam continued to stare at her, so she sighed and continued. "I just really like him." she said simply. "But he obviously likes Max more." she then proceeded to recount the entire story of what had happened at the café. "And I don't think he ever even really notices me…"

Sam had grown steadily tenser as the story went on. He exhaled. "I don't like him," he said.

"I do," Lissa wailed mournfully. "So much…"

Shaking his head, Sam steered the conversation away from the dark eyed boy, who was sitting alone, eating his food. "So you'll talk to Max after school?"

Lissa dragged herself up out of her self-pity. "Oh, yeah, of course. And you can talk to her on the bus. Call me when you get home, and we can talk about what we've found out." The prospect obviously excited Lissa, seemingly causing her to forget about her melancholic thoughts about Nick. She could be, like, a secret agent! She could picture herself, dressed all in black, a large pair of dark sunglasses hiding her green eyes. She'd flip her hair back, allowing people to admire the way it shone in the sun, and then jump onto her moped, riding away into the sunset.

Then the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. Sighing, Lissa picked up her lunch tray, and prepared herself for the difficult and undignified process of exiting the room.

xxxxx

Maths had been a nightmare, Max reflected. The class had been especially boring this lesson, as they were reviewing the work they had completed so far during the year. There was nothing in the empty classroom for her to focus on, and so she had held her body stiffly rigid as imaginary fists and feet lashed out at her. Digging out her money for the bus, she was glad for the vibrant colours of the schoolyard. The sun was forcing its way through the clouds that covered the sky, causing the expanse above her to shine with a white radiance. She turned her face up to the light, wanting to warm her cold face.

She flinched as a hand grabbed her arm.

_Oof! A heavy foot stamped down on her stomach, causing bile to spring to her throat, and forcefully expelling all the air from her lungs._

"Max!" Lissa's cheerful voice greeted her.

"Lissa…" Max muttered. She wasn't in the mood for this. Max suddenly noticed how bright Lissa's hair was, and fixed her eyes upon the explosion of colour, admiring the golden strands woven in with the fiery red.

"What's up, Max? You've been acting really weird lately, and I'm worried?"

Max resisted the temptation to shout at the girl, eyes still locked onto the flare of colour in front of her. Why couldn't people just leave her alone?

"Nothing's wrong," Max murmured, voice forced into softness. "Just haven't been sleeping well. You know, homework overload, and stuff…"

Lissa's eyes narrowed triumphantly, and she nodded, looking as if she'd accomplished something. The expression confused Max, but she shrugged it off.

"Joe's here," Lissa said brightly, green eyes drilling into Max's blue ones. "See you tomorrow, Max!"

Max watched her friend limp off to her car, and then headed to the bus, focusing her attention on the black head of hair belonging to the girl before her. Paying the bus driver, she moved to an empty seat, counting the number of stripes in the material of the chair in front of her. She dumped her bag down blindly, blue gaze not leaving the seat in front. She hardly even allowed herself to blink.

Her gaze was dragged from the seat when she sensed someone sit down beside her. She was slightly miffed they didn't ask if the seat was free, and turned to see who the offender was, preparing her best icy glare.

She bit back a squeak as her frosty gaze met dark brown eyes. "Nick," she said, surprise evident in her voice.

Nick nodded to her, his expressionless face belying the intensity of his eyes as they probed her face, dissecting her expression. Max shifted, slightly uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

There was a scream of machinery as the bus pulled away.

Max didn't notice as Sam walked down the aisle of the bus, his eyes watching her sadly. She didn't notice when he opened his mouth and hesitated as he passed the seat she was sharing with Nick. Nick noticed, but said nothing. Sam bit his lip, closed his mouth and moved on.

_Bang! She was thrown into the wall, her head connecting with the hard plaster._

Max instinctively whipped her hand up to the back of her head, protecting it from the phantom attacker. Nick's eyes widened slightly at her irrational action, eyebrows furrowing slightly. He tipped his head slightly to the side, asking a question.

Max shook her head negatively, hand lowering cautiously back to her side. "It's nothing."

Nick pursed his lips but still remained silent.

Max's stripe counting had begun to lose effect, and she could feel her focus slipping. Nick's perceptive eyes, which hadn't left her face, noticed the panic appearing in her blue eyes.

"You okay?" he asked, voice husky and soft.

Max leapt toward the sound as if it was a lifeline, eyes drifting to his face. "Not really," she admitted. "Talk to me?" she asked, needing something to focus on.

Nick's mouth turned down at the corners in displeasure. Max almost smiled, knowing that talking was not something he did if he could avoid it. "All right," he said, sounding disgruntled. "What do you want to talk about?"

Max shrugged. "Something meaningless. What sort of movies do you like?"

Nick almost grinned. "Horror. You?"

"Romance or action," Max sighed, frowning with distaste at Nick's preference, muttering with distaste how much she hated scary movies. This was untrue, as she was sure only last year she had loved them. She couldn't remember last year as clearly as she supposed she should… it was as if the memories from back then weren't really hers. "What's your favourite colour?"

Nick hesitated. "Orange," he muttered, seemingly embarrassed. Max smiled. "You?"

"Possibly blue," Max said after a moment's thought. "Do you like to read?"

"I don't have much time," Nick shrugged.

"Why? What else do you do?"

Nick's expression became guarded. He didn't answer. Max had trodden on forbidden territory. Her gaze slid away.

_Crunch! The fist slammed repeatedly into her jaw, and she felt the fine bones buckle under the pressure._

"What did you want to warn me about the other day?" Max asked suddenly. Her blue gaze scrutinized Nick's face. He met her eyes, and then looked away.

"Something stupid…" he muttered, a chord of pain thrumming in his tone. "Forget about it."

Max nodded, sensing that even if she pushed for an answer, he wouldn't tell her. She turned to stare out the window. With a jolt, she realised she'd missed her stop. "Shit," she swore.

Nick glanced at her quizzically. "What?"

"I missed my stop." she stood, leaning over Nick and fumbling for her bag. Nick's face contorted slightly, looking vaguely uncomfortable at her close proximity. He shifted, and said, "I'll get up."

Max nodded murmuring her thanks, completely unaware of Nick's discomfort. He looked out the window, hesitated, and then gave a soft exclamation of surprise. "This is my stop," he said, though something in his tone didn't quite add up. He also picked up his bag, reaching up to press the button to stop the bus. The blue light at the front of the vehicle blinked on, and the bus dragged itself to a halt in front of the bus stop.

Max and Nick waited for the doors to open, and then walked down the steps. They watched in silence as the bus pulled away, holding their breaths as the exhaust fumes washed over them, and jumping slightly as a crash of thunder shook the air around them.

Looking up at the sky, Max noticed how dark and heavy the clouds had become. She hadn't even noticed. She'd have to run if she wanted to get home without getting completely soaked.

Turning to Nick, she said, "I hope you don't get too wet on your way home,"

Nick's eyes seemed awfully big in his suddenly pale face. He nodded solemnly. "Sure. You too."

There was another boom of thunder, and then rain began to fall lightly around them. Max grimaced at the boy next to her and gestured ruefully at the sky.

"Always happens at the worst times, huh?"

Nick's lips twitched up slightly. "Yeah." He didn't move, and Max was unsure of what to do. Should she just walk away now, and leave him there…?

"Well, see you tomorrow…" she said awkwardly, raising a hand.

Nick gazed at her, knowledgeable eyes glimmering with pain. He opened his mouth, looking indecisive. Max waited, absently aware of the rain that was soaking through her blonde hair.

"Tomorrow's the last day," Nick said suddenly. Then a shutter fell over his face. His eyes lost all expression, face falling slack. Max wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not, but suddenly there seemed to be an extra drop of water sliding down his cheek.

"See you, Max." he said blankly, eyes boring into her.

Max felt something twinge inside her. Something in her head shifted. She desperately tried to follow the change, but there was a block in her mind, a void of nothingness, which she could not pass. She struggled, sure that the reason for Nick's sadness lay behind that barrier. Gathering herself, she rammed her willpower at it. It broke.

"_Don't sharpen your fangs just yet, dog boy…"_

"_I'm tracking you 'cause that's my job. The back history is helping me enjoy it."_

"_Touch her and I'll kill you!"_

"_This sucks! Nothing ever goes right! We get hassled everywhere! Max's head is busted, Angel lost Celeste, we're all hungry – I hate this! I hate everything!_

"_What if we were safe here? Like, we just knew no one would come hassle us. Would you want to stay?"_

"_Guess what! I can breathe underwater!"_

"_But grown-ups are the ones destroying the world. Think about it…"_

Voices swirled around in her head, clamouring to be heard. Faces, namely, the group of kids she'd been seeing a lot lately, contested for her attention. Scenes flashed past, moving too fast for her to follow. Newspaper cuttings, twirling DNA helixes and photographs annotated with short scribbles and numbers imprinted themselves onto the back of her eyes.

Gasping, Max tore herself back. Whatever was behind that wall was kept there under lock and key for a reason. It frightened her, the life that was hidden in the back of her mind. The life she had been forced to forget.

Blinking her eyes back into focus, she moved her gaze up to the boy standing in front of her. His face was creased with concern, and she wondered what expression her face was portraying.

_Fang…_ This was Fang – her best friend. Fang… She remembered. He was supposed to be everything to her…

_No! Shut up! That isn't your life!_

Max shoved back the memories. That's what they really were, the visions. Fragments of whatever life she used to live. She didn't want that anymore. She didn't want to be continuously running. She wanted a normal life, with normal friends, and normal parents.

Fang had come to take her back. There was _no _way she was going back. She didn't know how she'd ended up here, with this, but she wasn't going to let anyone take it away from her.

Meeting Fang's … Nick's haggard, yet suddenly hopeful gaze squarely, she steeled her eyes into coldness. "Goodbye, _Nick_," she said clearly enunciating his name – his false name. Nick flinched as if struck.

Max turned and began the walk back to her house, now thoroughly soaked. Nick remained standing in the rain, staring after her. All the fight was gone from his body, a feat that not even Erasers had managed to bring about. Only when unconscious would he stop fighting. But there he stood defenceless, his charade of being completely unfeeling gone, his blank mask discarded. The rain slid down his heartbrokenly twisted face and his clothes were drenched and sodden, his dark hair plastered across his face. Slowly, he allowed his eyelids to slip shut.

xxxxx

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Iggy's voice whipped out across the room. His sightless eyes glared with unerring precision into Fang's own pair of dark eyes. "You're just giving up? Just like that?"

"I'll go back tomorrow." Fang whispered, unable to dredge up the energy to speak louder.

Nudge, Gazzy and Angel watched in silence. Angel had drawn herself to speak, to try stop Iggy from unleashing the hateful torrent of words that had been building inside his head, because she knew that it would hurt Fang deeper than he'd allow anyone to see, but Nudge had stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Why? Why bother? Do you even want her to come back?"

Fang's head fell forward, hair shadowing his eyes. "I won't even answer that."

"You're not even trying! If you tried, she would've remembered by now."

"She does remember."

"What?" Iggy's angry tone dropped, surprise infiltrating its way into his voice.

"She remembers."

"But…"

"It doesn't mean that she's _Max_. But she remembers. And she doesn't want to come back… I can't do anything about that…"

Fang rubbed a hand over his eyes, unspeakably weary. He was exhausted. He wasn't used to such emotional torment. It didn't usually affect him so, but this time… this time the trouble was close to his heart.

"Bring her back!" Iggy suddenly screamed. His hands reached up to grasp at his strawberry blond hair. "Bring her back, Fang! Please!"

"I don't know how, Ig," Fang said softly, heart aching. "It's up to her. We knew that from the start. I can't force her…"

"But they'll _kill_ her!"

"I know."

"Oh, God. We have to _do _something!"

Iggy's face was creased with pain. His head fell forward into his hands, and a single tear fell from his useless eyes. "I can't stand it without her," he whispered.

xxxxx

**A/N – Ahh, while I was writing that bit in the rain, I was listening to 'Goodbye Beautiful Day', by Aviatic, and for the first time ever, I actually felt something for what I was writing. I love that song…**

**But, damn. Tensions are high as time begins to wither away … stealing day after day, the moon calls, and night falls … goodbye – Okay, turning the music off now. So, time has almost run out. Max remembers, but is still the normal, average girl. The memory of her real life isn't enough… she needs to … to be **_**Max **_**again. **

**Sorry about how late this chapter is, but trust me, you'd rather it was this late, rather than reading what I had before. An alert probably went out; saying that chapter eleven was up but with a little help and prodding from Alyssal, I had an epiphany:**

_**Delete chapter eleven. It's a load of shit.**_

**And who am I to ignore such amazing clarities of thought? I mean, if you think there's a****bit of OOC-ness in this, then, oh, my God, you should have seen what I'd written for chapter eleven prior to this…**

**And that completely unnecessary and irrelevant scene with Sam and Lissa? That was purely for my enjoyment. Sorry if it bored you, or anything, but I just love those two, XD **

Reviews :D –

Ali – I was pretty concerned about the POVs … I fear I may have done it a few times in this chapter. I just can't really tell whether I've done it right or not, so I wait to be yelled at later for getting it wrong. Glad you liked it :D

Shadowseeker170 – You must've been getting some weird looks from those around you, then, gasping at a page of writing… I know I do. Especially if something's funny, and I laugh. It really freaks my family out… I suppose I'm up for a maiming, then, considering how long this chapter took to be put up?

me.. – yeah, I've already spoken to _you_, but just seeing that again makes me irritated. Not incest!!

MRACR – that sentence you mentioned – I much preferred your version of it… I'll probably change that soon. When I can find the time, what with my slightly insane plotting to kidnap a … fictional … character. ( shrugs ) that's not going to stop me. He's still mine! You … well, you can have Angel, if you like. She's … pretty cool …

**So, as always, thanks for reading. You know, I always used to put 'RandR' and the bottom of my stories – like, you know, Read and Review. But I've just realised how pointless that is. Because if I put that at the **_**bottom**_** … obviously, you've already **_**read **_**the thing. Unless you just scroll down to read my scintillating Author's Notes... So, instead of R and R, maybe I should just say R … So much more logical…**


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: So, I was attempting to stick together some planks of wood I stole from a nearby construction site in the vague structure of a wing. I then covered my creation with pages from my best friend ( my diary ). After a lengthy debate between myself and … well, myself ( a very gripping and toe curling debate it was ) I decided that sawdust does indeed make a good replacement for feathers. Soon, once I contact my accomplice, and we apply the sawdust to my already-klag-glue-covered wing structure, we will be unstoppable!! Iggy and Angel don't stand a chance!

xxxxx

"…outlook for the week shows that the rainy weather will continue, lightening up on Saturday. Forecast for today is 23 degrees Celsius, cloudy, with a risk of heavy showers and thunder in the afternoon. There's also a strong wind warning for…"

Max's mother sighed. "All this horrible weather, and in summer, too."

"Hmmm…" a deep voice rumbled from the armchair next to her. Max's father, home for the first time in weeks, picked up the remote and changed the channel to the cricket. He settled himself further into his comfortable seat, picking up his glass of beer and slurping contentedly. Work was intense, these days, and it was only rarely that he got to relax at home like this.

"You should have said you'd pick Max up from school," he said to his wife. "She'll have to walk back from the bus stop in a storm, if the weather man was right."

Max's mother sighed and nodded, "Yes, I should have. It just didn't cross my mind. But you never know," she murmured, "That weather man has been wrong so many times before…"

Her husband grunted an agreement, and then waved a hand at the television, indicating that the conversation was over, and now the cricket beckoned, domineering all his attention.

xxxxx

A crash of thunder boomed, rattling the windows of the dilapidated bus. There were a few gasps heard from the seats around her, but Max didn't even flinch. Neither did the boy beside her.

She stared straight ahead towards the front of the bus, mind forcefully blank. She'd discovered this was the best tactic for pushing back the nauseating rush of nostalgia that erupted whenever that breached barricade in her mind allowed a memory to slip forth.

Max chewed her bottom lip, worried that this endless loop of schooling her mind to blankness, slipping up, seeing another face, scene, wing… anything, then fighting that enormous battle that had become commonplace, to thrust back the longing she felt for the skies and for her friends. For her family. Her dysfunctional family of genetic hybrids. She longed to see Angel's pretty, innocent face again, and Gazzy's determined blue gaze which contrasted sharply with the youth his features displayed. She missed Nudge's constant chatter, and the vibrancy of her deep brown eyes. Iggy's biting sarcasm, and resolute pessimism, the way his blindness never seemed to be a disability.

And Fang…

Max gritted her teeth, angry with herself. Her clenched jaw the only outward sign of irritation, she began to viciously empty her mind of all memories not related to her normal life.

Sifting through the images in her head, she slowly managed to clear it. Sitting on the bus with Sam? Fine. Wings? Definitely not. Lissa following Nick around like a doe eyed puppy? Uh…

Max grinned to herself. That occurrence had happened in both of her lives, as she now thought of her situation. There was her life now, and her past life. And Lissa had been in a dumb state of pathetic admiration when it came to Nick in both of these lives.

Finally satisfied with the empty quality of her head, she relaxed. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she turned to her right, finding herself gazing right into Nick's face. Looking past him, she saw rain pummelling the windows of the bus.

She was going to get wet again, then. It was raining much harder than the day before.

Returning her blue eyes to Nick, she raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She scowled when Nick shook his head, telling herself she shouldn't have expected him to actually _speak._

It had been a strangely awkward bus ride, so far. She had surprised herself when she opted to sit next to Nick in favour of finding an empty seat. He had openly stared at her as she plonked herself down, and his eyes hadn't roamed much since. At first, he had looked like he wanted to talk about what had happened yesterday. About _everything_, but Max had chattered on about meaningless and trivial things, like what she had done in English, and what movies were showing at the local cinema.

Nick's eyes had darkened and narrowed, but his gaze hadn't left her face. His stare held an intensity equal to the one it had displayed the day before, and he had seemed to be drinking in her features, etching them into his mind.

Eventually, Max had been satisfied she had got her point across, and allowed herself to lapse into silence, focusing on keeping her mind blank to dispel the onslaught of painful, happy and just plain _emotional _memories that had attacked her mind earlier in the day, before she had devised the ingenious tactic of keeping nothing in her head at all.

It was only when she actually thought about things that the memories flooded her brain. Max supposed this was because the little things she might have been thinking about aligned with something that had happened, thus opening the tide gate a little, and then the flow became bigger and bigger, until she managed to shove everything back. Max had become fully acquainted with the idea that perhaps, she was indeed going insane.

Eyes drifting away from Nick, she focused on the scenery outside the window. Her stop was next. Reaching up, she pressed the button, and the light at the front of the bus blinked on.

Vaguely, she wondered where Sam was. He hadn't been at school today.

Jiggling her foot anxiously, now eager to leave the small, humid and cramped space of the bus, Max reached for her bag. When the bus pulled laboriously to a halt, she fought the urge to leap up, instead rising gracefully, picking her way through the schoolbags littered carelessly down the aisle.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the cold air from outside hit her, and revelled in the feeling of the rain on her face. She stepped down the steps, only realising then that she'd forgotten to farewell Nick. That left a bitter taste in her mouth, as she remembered what he had said yesterday, before she left him standing in the rain.

"_Tomorrow's the last day."_

Today's the last day.

She (figuratively) heard the barrier in her mind creak, and quickly cleared her head. She stayed where she was on the pavement, waiting for the bus to pull away. As it did, she heard a splash, which sounded rather like a foot stepping in a puddle.

Max looked behind her in surprise. "Nick? I thought your stop was further on,"

She wasn't sure why she kept up this charade. They both knew it was pointless.

Nick's gaze was wide and piercing. He allowed himself a small, sad chuckle. "You and I both know that I have no bus stop." he said softly.

Max's gaze slid away. "Yeah." she agreed. Reaching up a hand, she wiped away the rain that was dripping down her forehead and into her eyes. It was a pointless action, as the rain would keep falling no matter how many times she brushed it away.

Nick's gaze still hadn't left her face. His eyes were penetrating and there was a quiet longing and desperation embedded deep within them. The intensity of his stare shook Max, and she stepped backwards, gripping the straps of her schoolbag tightly.

The rain rolled down Nick's tanned skin slowly, falling from his long fringe and catching on his dark eyelashes. His eyes were wide as ever, and Max could almost see herself reflected in them, her face blank, only her eyes displaying the raging conflict inside her.

Suddenly, Nick's watch beeped. The sound caused Max to recoil, a feat that the rumbling thunder had not managed to accomplish. She heard a sense of finality in the mechanical sound, and that filled her with an almost unbearable sorrow.

"Nick –" she began, knowing that the watch signalled his time to leave.

Nick interrupted her, stretching out a hand towards her. He said nothing, but his action was enough to silence Max as effectively as if he had bound her mouth with duct tape.

_Will you come?_

Max didn't know how to answer his unspoken question. She knew for sure that she didn't want Nick to leave. Since he had entered her world, everything had seemed brighter, infused with a new meaning. She had _felt _something. Something real. She had come to realise what a sham her existence here was.

She remembered the day when she'd seen him at the hospital, when she went to visit Lissa. In the ice cream parlour nearby, he had told her that none of this was real. Her world was a fake, and illusion. She had reacted with anger.

It had truly made her angry that this boy could walk into her life, having only seen her a few times, and see straight through her, into her soul. Max's childhood memories – playing with Sam in a sandpit, laughing with her parents – they all seemed unreal. She had no emotions to go with those memories. In a way, she was unable to classify them as memories because she felt nothing for them. They were just pictures, scenes she remembered without fondness. She remembered when dislocated her shoulder swinging and falling from the monkey bars. She could clearly picture her small, screaming face. But there was nothing else. No pain, no fear, which certainly should have been there, at the sight of her shoulder popped out of its socket and hanging uselessly. Nothing.

This was wasn't _real_.

But then she tentatively delved into the ocean of memories behind that barrier in her mind. Searching through carefully, she managed to locate something.

Her young face twisted in pain, mouth open in a grimace of pain, cheeks wet with tears. It was an identical expression to the one that had come about as a result of the monkey bars incident. But it was different. Max remembered clearly the agonising pain. The fear and nausea she felt at the sight of her dangling arm.

This was _real._

Max remembered not so long ago sharing a joke with Sam. Her face had been completely relaxed of all tension, and she was laughing freely, clutching at her stomach. Her blue eyes were squinted closed, and she had grabbed Sam's shoulder for support, the boy being in equal hysterics.

Shouldn't such a memory at least bring a smile to her face?

She remembered what the joke had been about. It was something insignificant, something that some people probably wouldn't find funny. That scene, that memory, was empty. There was no happiness, no amusement that emerged when she recalled that time.

This wasn't _real_.

Disturbed by this revelation, which subconsciously, Max had always understood, she again delved behind that barrier.

She and Nick were sitting around a fire. The other four kids, their friends that made up their 'flock' were sleeping around them. Their clothes were dishevelled, faces weary with exhaustion. They were hungry, and didn't have much food to eat. Max and Nick were the only ones left awake, and between them, they were sharing a small can of coke.

Max fought the urge to smile, and then laugh, as she remembered the way she and Nick had laughed themselves silly over some trivial thing. She couldn't even properly remember what it was about, but she did recall how long they had laughed, and how good it had made her feel. All the trials and obstacles they had battered their way through – it all seemed to wash away, leaving behind a feeling of complete happiness and bliss.

This was _real_.

Suddenly, Max was disgusted with herself. She _knew _this wasn't real. She _knew _that her entire life that she thought was true was a lie. But she was still afraid. She knew what she should do. What she had to do. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. She didn't _want _to continue living a life on the run. She wanted this – she wanted peace, comfort, _security._

Could she really throw all this away? Her parents – who weren't really her parents, admittedly – and her friends – who weren't actually her friends – and her home?

---

"_Hey, Ig, rise and shine," I said._

"_Bite me," Iggy mumbled sleepily._

_---_

_Angel held my hand. "If you make cake, I can make strawberry shortcakes," she said happily._

_---_

"_Take deep breaths," the Gasman advised me, looking concerned._

_---_

"_This is not a democracy. It's a Maxocracy."_

_---_

"_Uh-huh," Nudge said, "If we get separated somehow – though I don't see how we could, unless maybe one of us gets lost inside a cloud or something – do you think that could happen? I haven't even been inside a cloud. I bet it's creepy. Can you see anything inside a cloud –"_

_---_

"_On the minus side, we're mutant freaks who will never live a normal life."_

_Fang shrugged. "Win some, lose some."_

_---_

'Mutant freaks who will never live a normal life'. The truth of that statement hit Max hard. Even if she stayed here, forcing herself to forget about the kids who she loved more than life itself, her life would be far from _normal._ No normal person was plagued with memories of her real life as a mutant avian-human hybrid. No normal person remembered soaring through the air, wings beating with strength and grace. No normal person remembered with satisfaction the feeling of pummelling a fist into a half wolf, half human monster.

No normal person forced herself to forget her loved ones, those who she would have died for.

That's what she was doing. This wasn't all about her, Max realised. Her wants, her desires were unimportant. For Angel and Gazzy. For Nudge and Iggy. For Fang. She was never happier than when she was in his company. She might clash with him occasionally, but she loved every minute of their arguments. She decided, perhaps a little melodramatically, that a life without him wouldn't really be a life at all. She would follow him.

And ultimately, Max knew, that this was what she wanted. She might want this life, this sham of an existence now, but after a few weeks, months, years, she would wish that she could just see her family, her _real_ family. She would be suffocated, and itch to spread her wings and launch herself into the air. Here, she would never be able to fly.

Max blinked, coming back to herself. She was suddenly aware of how drenched she was, and how cold. She was shivering under her thin school jumper, and her hair was plastered to her face. Raising her eyes, she saw Nick still standing there, his hand held out.

His expression bewildered her. Why was he so sad? Isn't this what he wanted? She _wanted _to go with him now, despite the part of her urging to stay here. Wait – was that a tear, slipping from his dark eyes?

Max stared at him. She opened her mouth to tell him what she had realised, and what she wanted to do, now. As her lips parted, Nick's face contorted with pain. His eyebrows drew together, and he dropped his hand back to his side.

"Goodbye, Max," he whispered, the rain snatching the words away, making her strain to catch them.

Max suddenly realised that he had completely misunderstood her. He thought … he thought that her silence meant she was going to stay here, and live out an empty life.

Max's eyes locked onto his and she opened her mouth again to tell him of what she had really decided.

"No – Nick –" she said desperately. The expression in his eyes caused her to freeze, mouth snapping shut. Or rather, the lack of expression in his eyes caused her reaction. They were empty. Not that carefully constructed façade of emotionless disinterest which he built to hide the true emotions within. Empty.

Nick was gone.

His dark hair was still dripping with water, rain still running down his tanned skin, eyes still as dark brown as ever. His face was still creased into that sad, heartbreaking smile.

But he wasn't there. He had already left.

"_Fang!_" Max screamed, barely recognising her own voice. Terror struck her as she realised he had truly left, believing that she had not wanted to go with him.

She threw herself towards the empty shell of his body, tears beginning to stream down her face, mingling salt with rain. Maybe if she said the right things, said how she really felt, he'd come back. Maybe if she shook him hard enough, those eyes would come back to life...

As soon as her hands came into contact with his body, he began to shine. Max stopped, uncomprehending. Then the dread set in as his body began to dissolve, removing all evidence that Nick had ever existed.

She watched hopelessly as the boy she now knew she loved dissolved into many brightly coloured pixels, the disjointed spheres of colour drifting apart in the howling storm, taking her hope for the future along with them.

xxxxx

**A/N – Right. The last Author's Note I wrote was long, and filled with meaningless babble. I've organised myself! I now have numbered bullet points:**

**1. Sorry for the wait. I've realised saying that it's 'late' is not technically correct, seeing as I don't really set a date. It's more of a vague 'a few days away', for the next update. So, instead, it's just a, 'sorry it took so long.'**

**2. Relates to point number 1. I remember way back when, in the earlier chapters, when I'd be able to update every few days. That probably won't happen, as I'm finding it more and more difficult to write. I did three versions of this chapter. THREE!!! And, believe it or not, this was the best of the lot. Win some, lose some, I guess.**

**3. Despite this being the third draft, I wasn't **_**entirely **_**happy with it. I'm sure you can get why. Honestly, if it's **_**too **_**terrible, please do say, and I might just re-write it ( for the fourth freaking time!! ).**

**4. ( yeah, numbered bullet points so totally not helping ) I realise that most of this chapter is just Max lost in her thoughts. Yucky. I agree! But, really, it was sort of necessary. Like, she had to totally turn around her way of thinking… and that takes a lot of musing. I do hope you're still awake … So, sorry for that hateful boring crap.**

**5. ( still going! ) What the hell was up with Max's parents? Where did that come from…?**

**6. ( are you still here? ) There will be nowhere near as much thinking and lack of anything happening next chapter. Really. And as a side note, really numbered bullet point 7.6, please do, if you review, tell me whether this is so … unbearable that I really do need to change it. It'll take longer, but … maybe it'll be more soulfully fulfilling?**

**Oh, I am **_**so **_**not doing that again. I still wrote a whole lot of useless crap in there, numbered bullet points or no.**

**Reviews! –**

Ali – Okay, the POVs. I actually think I finally get it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but what I did wrong last time, was that I'd been like, in Max's head, and then I totally switched from her to Fnick. Which is basically what you said in your review, except I just dumbed it down a little … I'm pretty sure I didn't do it in this chapter … if I did, then I give up on ever understanding the mystery of Points of View. Mmm, that last chapter was my favourite so far, too. I just really loved writing it. Glad you liked it. I was concerned about the flashbacks of her traumatic experience, but thanks for not finding it too out of place …

MRACR – Lol, it was my favourite chapter, too. Glad you loved it. I've been horribly slothful, though. I haven't devised any brilliant plans for infiltrating the flock, only a couple of lame ass ones ( see above disclaimer, lol ) _and _I didn't update any time soon… Oh, and I'm sorry you dislike Iggy. I love him, personally, but I guess he was a bit of a bastard.

me… yet again – would it kill you to sign in? I mean, I do whenever I review _your _stories. I feel stupid replying to 'me…yet again'. But I don't think it's OOC of Fang at all. He wasn't giving up, per se, but he recognised that there was nothing that he could physically _do. _He just had to trust in Max to remember, and he couldn't trust her to do that. Because she was such a complete and utter … well, loser. Yeah?

unknown – only as insane as me!! ( cackles ) you're fine, then, right? XD

**RandR!!!!**


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Me and James Patterson, we used to be like _this_ (crosses fingers, waves them 'round). Now, we're more like ... _this _(waves forlornly from five hundred feet away). That restraining order put a real dent in our relationship...

xxxxx

_Max._

Fang waited slowly for his mind to readjust to being in control of a physical body. He accepted the pins and needles of pain that pierced his awakening muscles with relish. The physical pain is always so much easier to deal with.

_Max…_

Fang hated that computer system in which he'd been spending the better part of the last week or so immersed in. It was stifling. He knew everything was false. Nothing in there was real, and seeing things that could usually bring a small twitch of a smile to his mouth left a bitter taste in his virtual mouth. The sky, the storms, the rain… it was all a lie, and he loathed it. Even worse, Max had believed it all to be real. She had chosen that _lie,_ with all its security and emptiness over the freedom and beauty of the real world.

He wondered where Nudge was. She was usually by his side as soon as his eyes opened, offering him words of comfort. She hadn't come this time.

_Max._

Oh, right.

Tentatively, he stretched his long legs out, huffing out a puff of air as he forced his stiff, aching joints into movement. Grimacing at how pathetic he was acting, he reached jerkily up and ripped the electrode from his temples, rubbing at the irritation they had caused.

The door at the other end of the stark white room slammed open, the loud noise causing Fang to flinch. He instantly berated himself for deviating from his customary stoic persona, and glanced up at the offending door.

"Nudge is busy with computer stuff, so she sent me," Angel said solemnly. Fang nodded, still annoyed about the door incident. Angel's eyes widened. "Sorry, Fang. I didn't know it would bother you. I didn't mean to slam it against the wall…" her tone was apologetic, and she looked like she was about to cry.

_She looks how I feel,_ Fang thought sadly, taking in Angel's haunted gaze, shadowed by dark rings and her ashen face.

Angel offered him a small, tremulous smile and moved to his side.

"What do I need to do?" she asked.

Fang shrugged. "Help me up?" he asked. Angel immediately stretched down a hand and when he grasped it, tugged him up.

"Maybe we should bring in a chair…" Angel murmured. "The floor's such a cold and hard place to sit all day…"

Fang didn't reply. It was pointless, as he wasn't ever going to be coming back in here again, anyway. He hadn't lied to Max. His time had run out when hers did.

"Oh," Angel read his thoughts and remembered. "Oh, yeah…"

He painfully made his way to the door, Angel following anxiously behind him. He stopped at the door, leaning on the frame, allowing her to go ahead.

Turning to look behind him, he took in the tangled wires and machines that lay sprawled across the floor. The large screen, which took up dominance amongst the chaos, still displayed the rain torn virtual city.

Fang stared at it, hoping for a last glance of Max, even if it was through a glass wall.

"Nudge! He's up!" Angel called.

"Thanks, Angel," Nudge replied.

Fang glanced at her. She was seated in front of black, empty screens. Reaching behind one of the dead monitors, she pressed a button.

Returning his gaze to the only live computer screen, he intended to find Max. as he thought he'd caught a glimpse of her before Nudge distracted him... To his horror, he realised the screen had gone black. Nudge had turned it off.

_Max!_

Fang felt an irrational surge of panic overtake him. He wanted to see Max. He had to. He –

"Fang."

Angel tugged on his arm, blue eyes reproachful. "It's okay, Fang. We're going to go get Max."

She didn't say they were going to retrieve Max's empty shell of a body. She didn't say that it was possible they might lose their lives in this rescue mission.

And Fang was grateful. He nodded to her, and then cast his gaze around, watching the other inhabitants of the room. Nudge was slumped at the computer station, head buried in her arms. Iggy was going through their supplies, fingers roving over every object before placing it in their rucksack. Gazzy was nowhere to be seen.

They hadn't noticed anything amiss. Fang's blank mask had remained in place. That was good. They couldn't know of the turmoil going on inside him. Angel wouldn't tell. He had to be strong. He was the oldest, now. Max's position had fallen to him.

Steeling himself, he stepped forward and closed the door on the blank monitor in which he had been so sure he'd see Max. He wouldn't go back in there.

Iggy glanced up as he entered the room. Fang hesitated, expecting harsh words, but Iggy merely gave a slight nod, muttered "Yo," and returned to packing.

Nudge raised her head off her arms. "Angel, can you go get Gazzy?" she asked wearily. "He might need some help carrying the water bottles back."

Angel nodded and walked out of the room, shoulders slumped, the very image of defeat.

Nudge wasn't faring much better. None of them were.

_Max…_

"When are we leaving?" Fang asked.

"As soon as possible. Within the hour." Nudge replied, getting up and moving to help Iggy pack.

Fang nodded and reached for the food that had been set-aside for him. He needed to be prepared. It was a long, hard flight to Death Valley, and they wouldn't be stopping for a rest.

They all knew how pointless this exploit was, as the body they were going to retrieve wasn't Max. It was empty.

Nonetheless, they would not allow Max's body to be left in the hands of some filthy, inhumane scientists.

Taking another bite of his food, Fang closed his eyes.

_Max._

xxxxx

Her tears had ceased to fall. She never cried without good reason. And in this instance, crying would solve nothing. Nothing would solve anything. There was no solution. She was trapped here for the rest of her life.

Max wished that there were someone she could blame. She didn't even really understand what had happened to her. The last thing she could remember before this … nightmare was thrust upon her was screaming desperately at Iggy and Gazzy to _move, move, move!_

Erasers had attacked their camp, as they always seemed to do. They had been fighting. It had been dirty; there had been no sense of honour or fair play in that battle.

When had that happened, though? How long had she been here, really? Despite what a part of her mind was telling her, she _knew _that she hadn't been here her whole life…

It was too much. The ache in her head intensified, and she moaned, gripping her skull tightly.

She wished it would all go away. She wanted her life back. She wanted Fang.

_Make it stop!_

Something began to vibrate on her chest. She frowned, lowering her hands cautiously. A loud, blaring ring cut through the sounds of the storm like a knife.

Oh.

Reaching into her breast pocket, Max flipped open her phone, surprised it was still working. How the hell was she getting a signal in this storm?

"Hello?"

"Max? It's me, Sam."

"Oh."

"Hi. Where are you? I've called your house, like, six times. Why aren't you at home?"

Max's paranoid nature kicked in. "Why? Why do you want to know?"

"I'm worried about you. You're my best friend."

"No, you're not."

"What?"

"You're not my best friend!" Max said, louder. "You're not real! None of this is real! I hate this, I hate it!"

"Max, just come home. It'll all be all right…"

"This isn't my home!"

"Max… are you okay? Just calm down. You don't have to come home, then. Just tell me where you are, and I'll come and get you."

_--Thud! Crack! Snap! Sam's face was twisted into a horrible parody of a smile as his closed fist thudded repetitively into Max's face. Her nose had been mashed into something unrecognisable some time ago, and blood streamed down her face in rivers._

"_Sam… stop…" she moaned, words issuing from swollen and bloody lips._

"_It's okay, Max." the boy crooned, twisted smile widening, face splattered with her blood. "It'll all be okay…"_

"_No! Ari – don't'!"_

"_Oh, how sweet. Little Max remembers me now? I never wanted to hurt you, Max. I wanted us to be friends. Best friends. This is your fault."_

_His foot lashed out, connecting with the side of her face, splitting the skin. Max cried out in pain, voice cracked and strangled.--_

"_No! _Don't you _dare _come anywhere near me!" Max hissed, eyes widening in horror.

"Max, what –" Sam's confused voice filtered through the machine.

Max, gasping and retching, flung the phone from her ear. It landed on the flooded concrete of the road and cracked open. The screen went dead.

All rational thought that Max had once possessed went galloping off into the distance, laughing maniacally.

Backing away from the ruins of her cell phone, Max turned and ran. Tears began to fall again, her previous theory that crying solves nothing thrown to the dogs.

She wasn't aware of where she was going. She ran through the deserted streets, breath coming in panicked gasps. She was completely soaked with rain; her hair plastered to her head, shoes and socks squelching. She didn't care. Tremors of cold racked her body. She ignored this too. It was all fake, anyway.

There was an especially loud crash of thunder. Max gave a startled sob as it echoed through the empty street. She stumbled, heavy school shoes catching on a crack in the road.

She fell.

She threw out a hand to break her fall, gasping as the sharp concrete cut into the skin of her palms and her knees. She could feel the gravel ingrained into the gashes.

Tears began to fall in earnest. She couldn't take this. She hated feeling helpless. There was _nothing _she could do. Fang wasn't coming back. No one was coming to save her. She was alone in this fake world, woven from lies.

xxxxx

It felt good to be in the air again. The wind streamed through Fang's dark hair, and he tipped his head back to feel the sun warm his blanched face. He beat his wings down in a powerful downbeat as he sped through the air. Glancing back, he saw Angel and Gazzy keeping pace, with Iggy flying above the boy. Nudge was slightly underneath and to the right of Angel. Automatically he flicked his gaze to his left, looking for Max, ready to snap his gaze away the moment she noticed his attention.

Pain struck him a dizzying blow, and he had to take several deep breaths to calm himself.

She was gone, trapped inside a freaking computer, never to return to herself.

Shit.

Concentrating on keeping his wing strokes even and measured, he forced the thoughts out of his head. Now was the time for action. Thinking could come later.

_Down, up, glide … down, up, glide … down, up, glide … _

Fang repeated the mantra in his head, keeping his movements smooth and fluid. Despite his attempts to focus on his flying technique, he was acutely aware of the empty space beside him. It dragged at him like a black hole.

_Down, up, glide … _Fang shouted in his head. _Just don't think about it … _

xxxxx

The man dipped his donut into his coffee contentedly. His expensively clad feet were resting up on his desk, carefully arranged around the extensive computer equipment.

Bringing his sugary treat to his mouth, he chomped down happily.

"Oi, Geoff," his colleague called from the seat next to him.

Geoff grunted an acknowledgement, his gaze leaving the computer screens and turning to his partner. "What?"

"Pass the donuts." the redhead motioned for Geoff to pass over the 12 pack of donuts that Geoff had been indulging himself in.

Reluctantly, Geoff passed him the container. In doing so, he accidentally spilled his coffee over his chest.

"_Shit,_" he swore, regarding the brown stain that now spread down his white lab coat.

His red haired colleague chuckled to himself, and fished out a pink iced donut, shoving the food into his mouth.

"Shut up, Doug," Geoff snapped, brushing futilely at his coat. "Jesus, coffee _never _comes out."

"Hm," Doug hummed in reply, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. "I'll be glad when this project's over," he muttered. "Bloody boring, this is."

Geoff secretly agreed with his friend, but decided to argue to pass the time. "It's really important, Pearson." he said, using his partner's last name, as he knew that would irritate him. "Think of all the work that went into the program."

"I'd know. I _built _most of it. Doesn't mean this surveillance work isn't boring."

"Hey, hey, it's not too bad. Remember when Batchelder's kid got into the network?"

"Oh, yeah. That was fun. Stupid kid."

"What happened to him?"

Doug Pearson shrugged. "Who knows? They probably killed him."

"Oh. Poor kid."

Doug shrugged again. "He was insane, Geoff. You saw what he did to the freak. Beat her to a pulp."

"We fixed that, though."

"Doesn't change what he did."

"I guess not."

They lapsed into companionable silence, watching the rain pour down in the virtual world they'd created. Geoff shifted his position a few times, pushing back his black fringe from his face.

"I'm going to get a new coat," he said suddenly.

Doug grinned, knowing it was just an excuse to get up and walk around. "Sure thing. Don't be too long, though. It's almost my turn to sleep."

"Whatever," Geoff said. He'd decide to forego sleep today, not feeling tired. Lifting himself out of his chair, he grabbed a donut to eat on the way, and left the computer room that'd been his home for the last few weeks.

Breathing in the slightly fresher air, he decided to check up on their prisoner. Taking off his stained white coat, he draped it over his arm.

Heading for the door to his right, he punched in the alarm code and waited for the green light to blink before opening the door.

Glancing in, his heart constricted slightly.

The blonde girl was lying on the cold floor, her arm hooked up to a drip that was feeding her, and numerous electrodes stuck to her temples and forehead. Her clothes were dishevelled and were literally hanging off her thin frame. She'd lost so much weight since they'd brought her in.

Taking another step into the room, he bit his lip. He could remember when she'd been dragged, kicking and screaming in here.

Her blue eyes had been alight with a wild light, her blonde hair a shining halo around her fiercely beautiful face. She'd fought them every inch of the way, despite the bruises and cuts that graced her otherwise flawless skin. Her large, graceful wings had snapped out, taking out a few of his colleagues until they sedated her.

She'd been healthy.

Now, her skin was white and stretched tight over her face. Her bones jutted out of her body, and her blonde hair lay lifeless and lank on the ground beside her. The deep blue eyes were hidden from view by a pair of dark, heavy eyelids. Her wings were bound to her back, her hands tied tightly enough to bruise. She was barely breathing, barely alive. It was cold in the room, and her emaciated body was shaking from the cold.

She was dying.

Geoff felt something well up in his throat. He found it hard to breathe. Not once had he felt a single prickle of remorse for what his work involved. The genetic hybrids he worked with weren't _people._ They were just a number, a couple of notes on a piece of paper.

He realised how wrong he'd been.

This … what they were doing was inhumane.

Unable to bear the sight of her shaking body any longer, Geoff turned, and made to leave the room.

His hand froze on the door handle. A sob issued from the prone form of the girl on the floor.

He closed his eyes, slowly turning around again.

A lone tear tracked its way over the empty, lifeless cheek.

Geoff watched, heart torn. Looking from the trembling girl to the white coat over his arm, he walked to her side. Bending down, he removed his coat from his arm and draped it over the shivering girl, tucking it closely around her sides.

Her skin was chilly to touch, and he could feel the sharp angles of her bones, could feel every individual rib.

Crouched beside her, his task of covering her up done, he reached out and wiped the tear from her face.

Then he got up abruptly and left, closing the door behind him.

xxxxx

Max was walking again. She'd given up trying to halt the tears running down her face. They mingled with the rain, dripping onto the collar of her school shirt.

She knew where she was going.

Her hands had stopped dripping blood, but her knees still oozed. She ignored the pain, ignored the stains that were imprinting themselves on her socks.

She was immersed in her mind.

In her thoughts, she flew and dived and swam and ran and talked and laughed with her flock.

Really, it was no more false that the scenery that surrounded her.

Her feet carried her automatically, occasionally slipping on the uneven, wet surface. She was freezing and wet.

She came to a halt in front of a large building. The Clock Tower.

Max 'remembered' when her parents took her here as a child. They'd carry her all the way to the top, and they'd stand there, Max on her father's shoulders and look down at all the tiny people on the pavement below.

Max wasn't sure if she had enjoyed the feeling of the wind in her hair. It was a fake memory, after all.

Craning her neck, she looked up. It was very high. The clock above the rail where civilians were allowed to stand told her the time was eight twenty.

Face blank, Max allowed her feet to move forward to the door of the building. She gave no reaction when she noticed the lock on the door. You were only allowed up with a tour guide. For safety reasons.

Numbly, she bent down and took off her heavy, clumpy school shoe. Balancing it in her hand, she moved to a window.

Summoning her strength, she mindlessly drove the shoe into the window, not letting go. The shattering glass cut into her hand but Max didn't react. She smashed out the remaining shards of glass, and then returned her shoe to her foot, neglecting to remove the splinters of glass that lingered in the article of clothing.

She hoisted herself up and through the window.

She gave a small smirk at the door, scoffing at the lock that had thought to keep _her _out.

She made her way over to the stairs. There were over a thousands stairs for her to climb, now. Passively, she began the long climb to the top.

xxxxx

**A/N – Hi, guys. Sorry for the wait. This would've been up last night, but Billy Elliot was on TV, and I love that movie. I really hadn't planned on this taking so long to be typed, but it took a long time for me to decide what I was going to do. I refused to put up something that I hated, too. I had one version of the chapter, but that sucked so much. Worse than this did.**

**Sorry for the two OCs. I don't know if you guys like those sorts of things, but … well, I just really wanted to put them in there.**

**Damn, I was going to make this a bit longer, but I have somewhere to be, and I won't be able to type anymore tonight, and then I have school, damn it. So, this is it!**

**Yeah, in case you didn't get, Max is climbing to the top of a reeeeally tall building. And Fang and the Flock are off to Death Valley, to storm the school. Yeah? This was a bit of a filler chapter, I guess. It gets things moving after all the tragic goodbyes and stuff last chapter.**

**Reviews- **

Ali – Yup, I understand the POV thing now, and I think I might have done something a bit wrong somewhere along in this chapter. I don't think it was too serious, though … Lol, I ditched the bullets points this time. Too time consuming. And, I don't' believe myself, but I've _still _left you hanging on the Max escaping thing! Gawd, I suck… Next chapter, I promise :D

ME YET AGAIN – Okay, so not funny. Yeah. Um. So, you liked the last chapter? That's … good. Uh. This one wasn't so good, right? Yeah? Uh. Yup. Right.

MRACR – Oh, God, don't lock Iggy away! He's my light … I won't make any promises for the end, though. I do love sad endings … they're so beautiful. Oh, and the sawdust wing? You'll see, my friend, you'll see.

**Right, for once, I'm not going to say: 'Yeah, yeah, I'll re-write the chapter', because, bugger it, I'm not going to. It took me so much work to do, and no matter how much hate mail I get, there will be noooo re-writing. :D Bad luck!**

**RandR!!**


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Je ne possède pas ceci. Ik bezit dit niet. Ich besitze nicht dieses. Non possiedo questo. Eu não possuo este. No poseo esto.

xxxxx

Max's breath came in short gasps as she dragged her exhausted body up the last few steps. Her once clean school uniform was drenched with rain, sweat and blood that had flowed from the cuts up her wrist. One of her ankles was badly swollen, a result of her mindless, hasty scramble up the stairs.

She flinched as the first drops of rain hit her face, the sudden shock of cold sending chills down her spine, but didn't stop climbing, finally reaching the top of the staircase.

She felt an urge to turn around and look down upon the thousands of steps she'd just climbed, but didn't.

Instead, she turned her face into the wind blowing through the open archway that lead out onto the top of the clock tower.

Absently wiping her bleeding hand off on her already sodden skirt, she dimly registered with surprise that there were a few shards of glass embedded in her palm. She took a step forward onto the top of the clock tower, feeling the glass in her shoes being driven even deeper into her foot.

The wind was like an alien being. It howled at her, ripping with icy fingers at her long blonde hair. The rain that had earlier drenched her was even more vicious this high up off the ground. She let out a slightly startled huff of air, unprepared for the sheer force of the elements.

She cast her gaze around the platform, and then glanced up at the huge clock positioned above her head. She was surprised to see that it was only 7:20 in the evening. She was sure that it was later than that.

The clock must be broken, she decided.

"Just like everything else in my life…"

The sound of her mumbling voice chilled her. It wasn't her voice. She had never heard that current of defeat running through her tone.

Almost without her instructing them to, her battered and bleeding feet carried her across the storm-torn platform. Her blue eyes were vacantly scanning the sky, and a small smile broke out across her hopeless features as she saw a flash of lightning light the otherwise black sky.

Then she was at the edge of the platform. Her hands reached out of their own accord and gripped the cold metal railing tightly, knuckles turning white.

Leaning over, she was amazed at how high up she was. The false memory planted in her mind hadn't done the view justice. How was it possible for this not to be real? Stretching out a hand, she caught some water in her palm.

Not real.

_But it's a lie, an illusion. _

"You were right, Nick. You always are…" _Except for when it really mattered. _

In one smooth, fluid movement, which should have been beyond her physical capabilities, she hoisted herself up and over the railings. Her feet slipped slightly, and then found purchase on the outer rim of the platform.

She leaned forward. Now only her hands – her slashed, bleeding hands – were the only things keeping her from falling the hundred or so metres to her death.

In the end, she was alone, with only herself to stop her from falling. She'd always thought of herself to be the strongest link. But now, when there was no one to catch her when she fell, she was unable to hold herself up. Without the chain, the anchor falls.

Max closed her eyes, spread her (imaginary) wings and let go.

…

"_Shit!" _ Doug swore vehemently, spilling his coffee down his chest.

Geoff felt a small twinge of sympathy. Coffee never comes out of white. He watched his friend curse some more.

"Geoff, you _fucking _idiot! What is she doing?!" The redhead dramatically threw his coffee cup across the room. Geoff flinched as it hit the wall and shattered, coffee spraying everywhere.

Doug leapt across the room, eyes never leaving the computer screen as he furiously began tapping on keys.

"Doug." Geoff stilled his colleague's frantic actions with a hand on his arm. "Leave it."

Doug, features pinched with rage, shoved his hand off. "She's going to fucking _jump!" _he hissed, gesturing at the large monitor.

"I know," Geoff said gently. "Let her."

"_What!?"_

"She's been through enough. I don't care if half of her is a bird – the other half is human, like us. She's just a kid. Give her at least the dignity of ending her own life. Or at least the _thought_ that she ended her own life…" he said as an afterthought.

"Our instructions –"

"I know what the God damned instructions were. Leave it."

"I don't like it …" Doug's features were torn with hesitation.

He and Geoff watched in silence as the figure on the screen hoisted her battered body over the railing. The complete lack of expression on her virtual face chilled them both, and they unconsciously huddled closer together.

"Look, Geoff, maybe we should –"

"No. Shut up."

The blonde girl teetered on the edge of the huge building, face suddenly torn. Her features were shattered with an incomprehensible pain, and Geoff's face twisted in sorrow. He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her to stop. But he didn't.

The two whitecoats watched with bated breath as her ripped hands slowly loosened their hold on the railing.

She let go.

She fell.

Geoff leapt into action, fingers dancing across the keyboard with a grace that seemed too young for his aged body.

Doug's eyes did not waver from the screen. The girl on the screen had never looked more fiercely beautiful to him than she did now. Her face was alight with a radiance he had not seen her show before, in all his weeks of monitoring her.

It was hard to believe she was plunging to her death, drenched sunlight hair streaming behind her.

She looked more like she was flying.

A split second before she hit the ground, that vanished. Her eyes went dull, and lost all life.

Geoff sat back with a relieved sigh.

The girl hit the ground and shattered into millions of tiny pieces, which floated away, swallowed by the rain.

…

Fang looked around at the Flock. Their faces were grey with exhaustion, eyes dull with the knowledge of the hopelessness of their mission. It had taken them only a few hours to make it to Death Valley, Arizona. They were hidden in the trees outside the School, each plagued with their own terrible memories of the building they were about to storm.

"Fang, this is stupid,"

Iggy. Of course.

"What the hell are we doing here? This is going to be, like, five versus five hundred. Do you _want _to die?"

_Yes. _"No."

Angel whimpered.

"Well, then what the hell are we doing here?" Iggy gazed out of the trees with his sightless eyes, face taught with worry.

"We're rescuing Max," Gazzy said suddenly. "She needs our help."

Iggy glared at him, and then subsided slightly as his young friend opposed him, but muttered softly, "And who's going to rescue us?"

He was ignored.

"What's the plan, Fang?" Nudge asked, brown eyes gentle.

He had no plan. All he knew was that he had to get to Max. He was willing to run, full sprint, at the building and fight his way in. He would be willing to lose his life in the process. But those of his young friends … those he couldn't risk.

"I'll control one of the guards, and he'll show us where we need to go," Angel piped up.

Fang bit his lip. There were so many things that could go wrong… but they were running out of time… who knew when they were going to dispose of Max?

"I don't think I even need to begin pointing out all the holes in that plan," Iggy said sarcastically. "It's like a wedge of freaking swiss cheese."

Privately, Fang agreed.

"What would Max do?" Nudge asked softly.

"Max wouldn't have got us in this situation in the first place," Iggy snapped.

"Don't you dare blame Fang for this," Nudge snapped right back, temper flaring to life. "He's doing the best he can. He's –"

Fang was sick of the arguing. Max was _dying_, Max was _dead,_ and all they could do was argue.

"We'll go with Angel's idea," Fang said suddenly. "Let's go."

He dropped gracefully from the branch he was perching on and waited on the ground for the others to follow him. They did with varying levels of disgruntlement.

Quietly, they made their way through the shallow woods, shooting glares at each other when they stepped on twigs. Fang felt as if all threads connected to rational thought had just been torn out of his grasp. He was detached from the situation, mind numb with suppressed horror.

He wondered what Max was doing in her false world. Was she sitting at home, eating dinner with her fake parents in a hideous parody of normality? Or had _they_ already deleted her from existence with a few taps of a keyboard?

"It'll all work out," a soft voice said. "You'll see."

Fang glanced down, distracted. Nudge's face gazed up at him, illuminated by the moonlight. She'd aged so much, in the past month. It was as if for every day she lived she aged a year.

For her sake, he forced a tight smile and nodded stiffly.

"Quiet!" hissed Gazzy from the front. They had reached the gate.

"We're so dead," Iggy muttered.

"It's okay, Iggy," Angel whispered, standing on her tiptoes to pat his shoulder. Then, before anyone could stop her, she stepped out of the cover of the trees, blue eyes steely.

The Flock watched anxiously, unmoving, not wanting to distract her.

In a matter of minutes, Angel turned and beckoned to them, face glowing with pride.

There was an audible sigh of relief, and the rest of the Flock joined their youngest member in the open.

Fang glanced at Angel questioningly, and she nodded. "This is Jeremy. He's going to show us to where Max is."

Nudge and Gazzy both gave weary smiles. Iggy showed no reaction except for a slight wrinkling of his nose.

Fang nodded. He motioned for Angel to tell Jeremy to lead on.

The guard's mouth was hanging open, and his hands were twitching slightly.

Fang grimaced. "Angel – why does he look like that?"

Angel bit her lip. Her face looked strained. "I have to completely control his mind, because if I let go for even a second, he'll probably shout out to someone, or something. He's got a pretty strong mind…" she said in a disgruntled manner. "I _might _be able to stop him drooling," she offered.

Fang almost smiled. "Yeah, that'd be good."

Jeremy jerkily reached up and wiped the string of saliva from his mouth. Then he beckoned clumsily, turned, and then walked towards the main building.

The Flock waited as Jeremy opened the main gate, and then followed him through.

Fang thought it strange that they'd only have one guard posted at the main entrance, but dismissed the idea. There could be many reasons for that. Maybe security guards these days were less willing to be employed by an evil, inhumane scientific organization.

Nudge also noticed, and whispered to Iggy, who shrugged. A small frown creased both their faces, however, and they straightened their shoulders, senses alert for any sign of danger.

The building was strangely silent as the six figures stole through the night. It grated on Fang's nerves. Surely, even at night, there should be _some _activity. But there was nothing.

Despite his unease, he didn't allow his expression to change, and followed Jeremy in silence, occasionally flashing a tense smile at his friends.

They arrived at what appeared to be the main entrance to the complex. Angel stared intently at Jeremy for a few moments, and then, hesitantly, the guard moved to the numbered pad next to the door. He keyed in a code, and a green light blinked on.

"Too easy!" the Gasman crowed. He was instantly hushed.

Fang agreed with him, though. It was way too easy. Didn't they have security cameras here? Shouldn't multiple carbon copies of Jeremy have come rushing out of some door, guns blazing? What about the Erasers? Surely they'd take any chance they could get to rip into some mutant bird freak flesh.

Fang reached out and pushed open the door, and then waited for Jeremy to go through first.

"Lead the way, Jeremy," Iggy said dryly, feeling his way through the door.

Angel frowned at the guard, concentrating for a second, then smiled as he started off down the corridor.

As soon as they had stepped through the door, and heard it clang shut behind them, the smell of antiseptic almost overwhelmed them. Fang could hear gagging noises from behind him as Nudge and Gazzy clung to each other's arms and coughed. He sympathised, but allowed no sound to come from his mouth.

As they followed Jeremy through the labyrinth of corridors, Fang realized he had never seen this part of the School. This was obviously the 'public' part. There was no sign of anything that would indicate that this building housed the devil-spawned whitecoats.

Fang felt a tap on his shoulder. He inclined his head slightly.

"Fang," Nudge hissed. "Don't'cha reckon it's kinda strange that there's, like, no one here? I mean, this is the _School_. It should be crawling with whitecoats, or something."

Fang's brows creased. He had no explanation for the younger girl. "I know, Nudge. But there's nothing we can do about it."

"But what if it's, like, a trap?"

Fang shrugged.

"Shut up," Iggy hissed from behind Nudge. "The sound travels really well through here … they've probably all heard you, and now they're waiting to ambush us behind one of those doors."

"Shut up, Iggy," Gazzy and Nudge said together.

Fang rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the front.

Jeremy had reached a closed door which was emblazoned with the words, 'Private. Employees only.'

"Jeremy doesn't have clearance," Angel whispered to him. "He's just a lowly security guard."

Fang frowned. Damn.

"I'll have a go," Nudge said, stepping forward. She reached for the keypad, fingers splaying over the mechanism. Eyes closed in concentration; she tapped in a five-digit code.

She sighed. "Sorry, it didn't …"

Her voice trailed off as the lock in the door clicked open.

Nudge gaped at it. "What? But it wasn't the right code…"

"Whatever," Iggy said. "I don't really care. Can we just keep going, please?"

"Does Jeremy still know where to go?" Fang asked Angel, who nodded.

"He know the blueprints, but he hasn't actually ever been down here."

"God, just _go, _then." Iggy hissed, shoving at the security guard.

Jeremy stumbled slightly, only saved from face planting into the cold hard tiles by Angel's arm. He righted himself, and then began his trembling walk down the corridor.

The Flock followed in silence. Nudge's brow was still creased with puzzlement, and she glanced back the way they had come at the door frequently.

"This is wrong," she murmured to herself. Fang, not for the first time, agreed with one of the younger flockmates wholeheartedly.

But what else could they do? They'd already come this far…

They took a sharp left, and then later, a right and another left. Fang had completely lost all sense of direction. He had no idea how they planned to get out. If they ever had the chance to escape, that is.

"Here…" Angel whispered. They had reached a door. This one was not alarmed, had no security pad sitting next to it. It simply said 'No Entry'.

Fang had never been one for rules, and so he reached out, grabbed the handle and pushed open the door.

Leaving Jeremy outside the door, they entered the room. It seemed to be more of a connecting room, with two doors coming off it.

Angel glanced back at Jermey, hesitated a second, then nodded. "It's the door on the left," she said, promptly making her way to the said door and opening it.

Fang's whisper of warning died in his throat as an alarm began to wail.

"You freaking idiot!" Iggy yelled, all attempts at being silent discarded. It was too late for that.

"Angel!" wailed Gazzy, wringing his hands in panic. "We're gonna die!"

"Fang, Fang, the alarms are going off! What're we going to do? Should we, like, run now? Oh – wait, we can't because we have to get Max, right? Shit, um, okay, we'll go in and grab her and run, yes? I think that you and –"

"Don't move," a female voice lazily commanded from the door they had just entered.

Fang, who had been opening his mouth to halt Nudge's babble of panicked talk, whipped his head around so fast his neck cricked.

A tall woman, dressed in a suit and a white coat stood in the doorway, a small gun casually held in her right hand. And behind her, a large mass of Erasers leered, faces half morphed into their wolf form.

_Shit._

This had gotten out of hand…

"What's happening?" Iggy hissed to Fang, sidling up beside him.

Fang ignored him, dark eyes fixed on the woman up the front. She looked to be in her forties, dark hair pulled tightly back into a severe bun. Her sharp blue eyes glinted with amusement.

"Geoff!" she called loudly.

There was a sound of a cup smashing, followed by a string of curses, and then the other door swung open to reveal a frazzled looking man with coffee stains down his coat.

Behind him, a red headed man appeared, similarly stained with caffeine, peering over his colleague's shoulder.

"Yes, boss?" the dark haired man called Geoff asked.

"Go get the girl," the woman instructed.

Geoff complied immediately, glancing up at the flashing red lights above the door to his right, a product of Angel's hasty attempt to open it, and then entering inside.

"Doug," the woman continued, "I expect that you've deleted her by now?"

"Of course," Doug said. "Just like you ordered."

"Exactly. Now –"

The woman's words were cut off as an Eraser suddenly leapt up behind her and snatched the gun from her hand, raising it and pointing it at her head.

"Don't move," Angel said, mimicking the woman's words from before. "He'll shoot you if you don't let us go,"

Fang almost grinned. That was Max's little Angel, he thought to himself.

The woman, who Fang assumed was the head of the School, didn't look at all concerned. She smirked at the blonde girl.

"I had every intention of letting you go even before you enslaved my employee and had him point a gun at my head."

Fang shared a glance with Nudge. What was going on?

Suddenly, Angel gasped. Fang's head snapped around just in time to see Angel crumple to the floor, a triumphant Doug standing poised above her, a needle brandished in his hand.

"It's just a sedative," he explained as Gazzy and Fang leapt for him. They both froze immediately as two bullets slammed into the wall next to them. The Head Honcho of the School had regained her gun.

She now looked slightly irritated. "There really is no need for this. If you weren't such savages, you could have left with the girl, completely unharmed. I'm tempted to just shoot one of you to teach the others some manners…"

Fang's eyes blazed with rage, face tightening.

Geoff chose this moment to re-enter the room. "I've got her, ma'am," he said, eyes confused as he noted the two bullet holes in the wall, and the prone figure of Angel. An uneasy look flitted across his face as he saw how young and innocent the unconscious girl looked.

Fang's eyes were drawn to the figure slumped in his arms.

Max.

But surely … surely that wasn't Max. Max's face was never so pale … all those days they'd spent flying in the sun had tanned her face a healthy bronze. And her hair, which was usually so full of light, was dull and almost colourless. Even though they often did not have much to eat, her body had never gotten so skinny as it was now. She looked like she was dead already … barely breathing.

"Take her,"

Fang glanced up. "What?"

"Take her," the woman repeated, looking slightly bored. "We have no further use for her. She'll be dead soon, anyway. Geoff – give him the body." She redirected her gaze to Fang. "You can leave now. Try not to cause any more trouble on the way out. I think we've been generous enough already…"

The dark haired Geoff shuffled over to Fang, his hands strangely gentle on Max's empty, fragile form. As he passed the lifeless body to Fang, he stumbled, hand shooting out to grab at the boy's shoulder.

Fang resisted the urge to snarl and shove the man's hand off him, and instead gripped the man's arm, helping to support him. After all, if Geoff fell, then Max would too, and she might crack her head open on the cold tiled floor.

Needless to say, he was surprised when he felt Geoff's other arm poke at his waist, Max now safely supported between the two of them. He narrowed his dark eyes as he felt the whitecoat slip something into the pocket of his jeans.

"Don't lose it…" Geoff whispered, so softly Fang wasn't entirely sure if he'd actually said anything. Then the man said, louder, "Sorry! Haven't walked in a while, what with sitting in front of a computer screen all day."

Geoff's eyes were intent on Fang's face. He looked like he was waiting for something. The boy's eyes widened with comprehension.

"Get the fuck off me," he hissed vehemently, holding Max up with one arm while shoving the man away with the other. Geoff nodded slightly at him, one corner of his mouth twitching up.

The Head of the School hadn't seemed to notice anything amiss, as she was busy instructing the Erasers. A majority of the mutant human-wolves nodded at her, and then left.

"The rest of you to the training grounds. We have a few new experiments we'd like you to try out," she said to the remaining Erasers.

They grinned with feral excitement, and followed the rest down the corridor, talking amongst themselves. Only four were left.

"These four will escort you to the exit," the woman informed the Flock. "Please don't kill them, as they will immediately inform me. I don't want to have to kill you – you seem to be fairly attractive kids. It would be a shame to have to feed you to the dogs, so to speak. Doug – you and Geoff will now shut down all systems, and then report to me."

Doug and Geoff returned to the room that they had come from, Geoff nodding to each of the bird kids as he passed them.

Angel smiled back, Nudge ignored him and Gazzy scowled ferociously. Iggy, of course, didn't see him.

"Don't try anything," the Head warned. "I don't want to have to see you again." She turned to leave.

"Wait," Fang said. She paused. "Why did you do all this? If you wanted us to take her, why did you alarm the door? Why not just let us take her and be gone?"

The woman's face stretched into a condescending smile. "I didn't want you to think you'd _beaten _us," she said. "We never lose."

Then she turned and left, following the path the Erasers had taken a few minutes previously.

"Let's go, kiddies," one of the Erasers spoke with a smooth, velvety voice.

Fang's eye twitched, hands desperate to wrap themselves around the man's throat.  
Instead, he turned to Iggy. "Help me carry her?" he asked. Max wasn't heavy at all – she barely weighed anything, but it gave him something to do. He also suspected that Iggy would appreciate the opportunity to feel what had become of his beloved leader.

Fang carefully passed Iggy Max's shoulders, he himself picking up her feet.

"Let's go," he said, turning to the Flock, taking in their wide, frightened gazes.

"Is Max… is she going to be okay?" Nudge asked, eyes fixed on her friend's face.

Fang sighed. "I'm not sure, Nudge…"

They followed the four Erasers out of the room, Max lying suspended between Fang and Iggy, and Angel, Nudge and Gazzy following along behind.

Fang noticed the tension in Iggy's shoulders as his fingers ghosted over Max's face.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer already, but wanting to ease his friend's pain.

"No." Iggy said shortly. "She … she's dead, isn't she?"

"We knew that already," Fang replied. "At least this way…"

"But she's breathing … why is she still breathing? Maybe we can do something…"

"Iggy, she's gone. You saw what happened. Those tech guys, the whitecoats, they said they deleted her. This is just her empty shell…"

Fang had expected Iggy to lash out, as he often did in these situations. Instead, he stayed silent, a single tear tracking its way down his cheek from his sightless eyes, falling and landing on Max's forehead.

The rest of the twisting, turning walk passed in silence, punctuated only by the soft, reassuring whispers from Nudge to Angel and Gazzy.

"We're here, lovelies," one of the Erasers crooned, opening the main doors for them and giving a mocking bow.

Gazzy flipped him the bird as he walked past.

As soon as the doors were safely closed behind them and they were out of the compound, on the fringe of the woods, Fang spoke, "We'll grab the stuff and head deeper into the woods. Make camp there."

The Flock nodded wearily, eyes carefully looking anywhere but at Max's vacant body. The younger kids picked up the heavy rucksacks without complaint, and Fang and Iggy continued to carry Max's body.

They walked for at least two miles before Fang called a halt. "Here." he said, nodding to Iggy before carefully lowering Max's body onto the leaf-covered ground.

There were thuds as the rucksacks were flung unceremoniously down, and then a soft sob broke the silence.

"I just want Max to be okay…" Angel cried quietly, dropping to her knees beside Max's body. She buried her face in her friend's side, hugging her arm.

Her tears created a chain reaction, and within moments, the rest of the Flock was crying, all huddled around Max's body.

Fang, however, did not cry.

He didn't know what to do. This wasn't what he dealt with. He usually had Max here for this sort of thing. She was good at comforting the younger kids. Fang didn't deal with emotions. He couldn't. It wasn't his way.

He just went numb. It was easier, right? To just shove it all away and not let it hurt.

If he didn't do that, he'd be down there with his friends, bawling his eyes out over something he couldn't change.

Max was dead to him. Gone forever. He couldn't change that, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he cried.

_Why couldn't you have been stronger? _he thought hard at Max's limp body, barely visible through the cluster of mourning bodies.

He didn't realise that he'd spoken aloud until Iggy turned to him. The boy's face was stained with tears, but no more were falling. He reached up and wiped the remaining moisture from his face and said, "She did the best she could, I think. It's because she was so strong that she wasn't able to come back."

There was a quiet rebuke in his voice, as if Fang shouldn't need reminding of the strength of Max's personality.

Fang shrugged and didn't pursue the point. He sat down and leaned his back against a tree. He said nothing more for to his friends, choosing to watch them sob out their grief.

Eventually, Nudge murmured that they should sleep, and dragged the younger kids with her to a softer part of the ground. No one mentioned food because none of them were hungry.

Iggy soon followed the younger ones, joining them quickly into a restless and agonising sleep.

Only once Fang was sure they were all asleep did he move. Quietly, so as not to wake them, he pushed himself up, stepping over to Max's body. The Flock had done the best they could to ensure her comfort, draping one of their few blankets over her form, and positioning one of the rucksacks beneath her head.

Dropping to a crouch, Fang hesitantly reached out a hand. Movements cautious and gentle, he touched her hollow cheek.

He could hardly believe that after he'd done everything he could, given everything he had to bring her back, it was all for nothing.

She would die anyway.

Suddenly, he realised his previous thought wasn't true. He hadn't done everything he could. He hadn't given everything he had. He'd given her the surface; he'd given her what he'd always shown her. Friendship. He'd offered a love that one would feel for a sibling.

He'd held himself back, selfishly withholding what he felt in the deepest recess of his soul, where he had never allowed anyone to reach. Regardless of whether he would allow it or not, she'd made herself a part of him without even trying. He loved her with every fibre of his being. Beneath the blank mask, which he knew frustrated and confused her at times, he longed to tell her of what she had instilled within him.

He never had.

Why?

What was he afraid of?

Rejection?

Scorn?

Maybe she'd have been disgusted.

But in those last moments, those last days with her, what did he have to lose? Nothing. Nothing, and everything.

And he had lost.

Only in hindsight did he realise what his stubbornness and fear had prevented him from seeing. That had been his last shot. His last chance to tell her who he was, who she had made him to be, and he'd missed it. He'd been too caught up in the toll that could have come from baring himself so completely, that he hadn't seen what he should have.

Hindsight always came too late.

"_Max," _he whispered, shaking fingers tracing her beautiful, delicate, fragile, starved, _lifeless _features.

And he couldn't do it anymore. The tears, the sobs he'd held back came breaking through. Suppressed emotions are always more destructive when they finally break free.

They always break free.

Fang fell backwards from his crouch, and slowly, painfully, laid himself down beside Max. Tears still pouring down his dark cheeks, he carefully wrapped his arms around her still form, pulling himself into her, shuddering at how cold she was. He frowned slightly in irritation as a hard, sharp object pressed into his leg – whatever it was that the whitecoat had given him.

Fang didn't spare it a second thought.

Closing his eyes against the tears still flowing, he took a deep shuddering breath, and listened to Max breathe.

Then, softly, he whispered to her all the words of love he'd been too afraid to say to her before.

What did he have to lose?

xxxxx

A/N – I'm sorry, I'm sorry! (deep breath) Bringing in the numbered bullet points!

1. It took so long! I know … What, like, two weeks? I think… that's a long time. Sorry… but as I probably moaned to more than a few of you in review replies, school was pretty tough for the first two weeks. Dude, my maths teacher is a psycho. You have no idea…

2. This is the last 'chapter'. Next one's an epilogue. Just thought I'd give a heads up…

3. As you could probably have been able to tell, I'm not all that great at writing _action._ Like, no matter how many times I've gone through this ( 11 pages is a _bitch _to proofread ) I just don't know how else to do it. So this is the final copy for the chapter I'm afraid, m'dears. No more re-writing for me. I'm allowed one or five crappy chapters in a 15-chapter saga, yes?

4. …sorry for the wait…

I think that just about covers everything… But once again, sorry!! ( I just can't help myself, can I…? )

Reviews –

'_Your favourite person ever!' – Notice these : ' ' ? They're very important if you want to get the full meaning of what I thought when I wrote your ridiculous excuse for a penname. About the OCs … having them here was pushing it, wasn't it? But I just needed them… they were important…_

_Laura – I'm just like you… Only rarely do I actually motivate myself to write something. Otherwise, I just take everything and give nothing back to the community. We're destroying the society of today, we are… I'm glad you enjoy my somewhat mindless ramblings, too. Thanks for reviewing, even though you have a busy workload and all…_

_MRACR – I could swear I've replied to you somehow. But I mustn't've, because you weren't signed in … It's been so long I can't remember anymore. Anyway, due to lack of explanatory disclaimer, the wing was so they'd think I was also a freak, accept me into their midst as they do ALL the other OCs in some fics, then I could sabotage them FROM THE INSIDE OUT! Cool, yes? Yeah, Max didn't get out in time, did she…? Pity that._

_nudge343 – That was what you suggested? Oh, well, I'm glad I managed to incorporate it somehow. Awesome. And, yeah, don't worry about not reviewing, or anything. It's not like you're legally bound to, and I'm going to come and whip you if you don't. :D I'm glad you did last chapter, though. Thanks!_

Fin. R&R!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: (silence)

--

Fang awoke to a small, hard object digging into his thigh. Max's body was limp in his arms; barely retaining the warmth he was giving her. He exhaled softly, and shifted slightly, trying to alleviate the uncomfortable sensation in his leg, but to no avail. Still half asleep, he gently shifted Max from his arms onto the pillow of blankets, carefully laying her head down on the makeshift pillow.

Rubbing his eyes, he glanced around the small clearing they were in. It was barely dawn, and only the beginnings of light could be seen, tinged green, shining through the trees.

Nudge, Iggy, Gazzy and Angel were still asleep, all curled together, the faint light bathing their faces, distorting the natural colour of their skin until they looked seriously ill.

Fang levered himself laboriously into a sitting position, then stood up. He rubbed at his leg, and then thrust a hand into his pocket, searching for the offending object that had bruised his thigh. He frowned in surprise as his fingers located a small, plastic figure. Fishing it out, he realized it was a USB drive, one that you insert into computers.

"Oh," he said softly, remembering back to yesterday when the whitecoat had stumbled against him and slipped the small memory card into his pocket.

But what was it for?

These little sticks held data, right? So, what information was stored on this?

Suddenly, Fang's heart leapt.

"No way…" he muttered, glancing first at the small device in his hand, and then to Max's lifeless form, strewn on the ground.

_Dude, that should not be possible… _he thought, ferociously quelling the hope that rose up inside of him. It wouldn't do to get overexcited…

"Nudge!" he hissed, taking long strides over to his sleeping friend. "Nudge, wake up!"

The girl was slow to rise, even as he shook her shoulder. She blinked blearily, dark eyes clouded with sleep. "Fang – what…?"

Fang shoved the small memory stick out in front of her face. "The whitecoat gave it to me," he said.

Nudge stifled a yawn. "What… what time is it? Fang, the sun isn't even up yet…"

Fang rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Nudge!" he said again, waving the small plastic object around in front of her face.

Nudge focused on it, and dazedly reached out and plucked it from his fingers. As soon as she touched it, she gave a small gasp, eyes going wide. She dropped the USB onto the ground, mouth hanging open.

"What is it?" Fang questioned urgently, bending down and picking up the memory stick from the ground, dusting the dirt from its shiny plastic surface.

Nudge stared at him. Her face, blank with shock, began to slowly spread into a smile.

"That- that's..." Nudge glanced at Max's silent, prone body. "How is that possible? Those guys must've been really good with computers... How do you put a _person _into one of those?"

Fang inhaled sharply. He had been right. Suddenly, the small plastic object seemed to be the most important thing in the world.

Now, he just had to tell Nudge to keep what they'd found out quiet until they were in the air, because he knew pandemonium would erupt as soon as the others heard that Max's soul… brain… whatever, was trapped inside a small stick of plastic and circuitry. If they made too much noise, there was the slim chance the Erasers might be able to find them. So, they'd just keep the noise level down, and –

"Guys!" Nudge shouted, voice completely shattering the tranquillity of the woods. "Oh, my God, Iggy – Gazzy – Angel – wake up!"

There were sleepy murmurs all around from the still sleeping members of the Flock.

"God, Nudge, isn't it too early for your idiocy?" Iggy snapped, but his voice lacked its usual bite, clouded with dreams.

Nudge ignored him, reaching down and grabbing Gazzy's arm. She proceeded to shake him into wakefulness, and then got started on Angel. Obviously, she expected Fang to deal with Iggy.

Fang pursued his lips, watched Nudge gently shake Angel's thin shoulder, and then drew back his booted foot and let it collide with Iggy's ribs.

"_Shit_." Iggy cursed, sitting up, strawberry blond hair wild. "You bastard – what was that for?"

"Nudge wants to speak to you," Fang said simply, abandoning his aforementioned plan of staying quiet, hands clasped protectively over the USB drive.

"Okay, so here's the run down of everything," Nudge announced, appearing satisfied that her friends were awake enough to listen to her. "Yesterday a whitecoat gave Fang a USB drive – you know what they are, right? Those stick things you plug into computers and you can store all kinds of stuff on them –"

"We _know,_ Nudge," Gazzy moaned, hands plastered on his ears, blinking gunk out of his eyes.

"Oh… okay, so Fang was given one, and he showed it to me just now, and it seems that _somehow _one of the whitecoats managed to save Max's soul or spirit or whatever from destruction and store it in that!" Nudge pointed at the small device in Fang's hand.

There was a split second of silence.

"Oh, my God, Nudge how the hell is that even possible, I mean –"

"Are you joking? That is the stupidest thing I've heard since –"

"So, Max will be okay, then? She has to be okay, right Gazzy? Gazzy? Nudge, she has to be okay, right?"

Nudge looked slightly put out that everyone else was doing the talking for once. She quickly reclaimed domination. "Guys, shut up. We have to find a computer. You know, to plug this thing in…"

"What about the place we were staying before?" Angel piped up excitedly. "There was heaps of, um, computer stuff there!"

"Idiot," Iggy snapped, "That place was shut down when we left, remember?"

Fang watched the proceedings with a blank face. There were plenty of public libraries he was sure they could use to plug in the USB, but he was completely unsure of how to transfer Max back into her body. It wasn't like he had experience in things like this…

"Nudge," he asked, "What if we just reboot the power at the old lab we used? Surely it can't be that hard…"

Nudge frowned. "Yeah, we could've done that, but the place was running on back up power, anyway… but I can't think of any other way to do it… I mean, we need that program the whitecoats were using, and all that equipment… I dunno where we'll find anything like that…"

The downtrodden tone to her voice reflected onto the others' faces. Iggy muttered something about packing up, for once neglecting to make a sarcastic or deprecating comment.

In almost complete silence, the Flock gathered up their scant belongings, each lost in their thoughts.

Of course it had been too good to be true. Since when had anything ever just come _easily?_ He'd done it again; he'd let his emotions run away with him. Every time this had happened, it had ended badly. If he'd just thought to start with, he could have saved himself _this._

Fang violently folded up a blanket.

Just ten minutes ago – was it really only ten minutes? – he'd been fighting to hold in his grin, his excitement, his relief and _happiness._ Max was going to be okay. He had been literally holding her life in his (capable) hands. Then, in one painful, jolting wrench, he'd been dragged back to reality, where simple happiness did not exist.

Ten minutes later, he was struggling to hold in his scream of raw anger, frustration and pain. He was struggling to hold in his twisted grimace of uncontrollable grief that was too old for his youthful face.

And at the epicentre, was Max, where she would always be, dead, alive or in a vegetable state.

Whether or not his hands were capable, it was not his hands that her soul was supposed to be residing in.

Once packing was finished, the Flock congregated around Max's body.

"We'll go back the way we came. Once we reach the edge of the trees, we'll get into the air."

He didn't mention where they'd go after that, and no one asked.

With limited speaking, Fang and Iggy lifted Max's limp body between them, the USB key safely tucked in Fang's pocket.

The rhythmic, plodding motion of walking was soothing, the inoffensive browns and greens of the woods calming.

Their steps slowed as a clear light began to filter through from ahead of them.

"Guys, shut up now," Nudge whispered unnecessarily, for no one had been talking. Her comment was more to breach the taboo of silence that had settled over them, than an actual warning to keep their voices down.

Gazzy crept out of the trees first, cautiously casting his gaze around. Seeing nothing out of place – the street was empty, building showing no signs of life – he waved Fang on. Iggy followed, then Angel and Nudge, Angel's pale hand clasped protectively in Nudge's dark one.

After a quick discussion with Iggy, Fang decided that a running take-off would be easiest, with Max clasped closely to his body. He'd flown carrying her before, so it shouldn't be much of a problem, seeing as he was stronger now, and she was lighter. So very much lighter…

Iggy's head snapped up suddenly, his hand shooting out to grasp Fang's shoulder. It was a testament to his alarm that he missed the shoulder, instead grabbing Fang's ear.

Fang gently disengaged his hand, dark eyes instantly alighting upon the figure that had emerged at a run from the building. Angel, Gazzy and Nudge drew closer together.

It was a lone whitecoat. His dark hair was tousled, white coat soiled with multiple stains and his arms were waving frantically at them.

"What the…" Gazzy muttered. He would've laughed at how ridiculous the man looked, if the situation wasn't more serious.

Fang frowned. This complicated things. It was the whitecoat who had given him the device that could, hypothetically, save Max's life.

"Stay here," he muttered to the Flock, and stood, walking to meet the frantic man.

"Oh, thank Christ you came out – I've been watching for you all night!" the man drew a shaking arm across his forehead, cleaning off the drops of sweat that had slid down from his hair.

"Why?" Fang asked sharply, characteristically not in the mood for small talk.

The whitecoat snorted, "Well, you need my help, obviously. That key I gave you – do you even know what it is?" At Fang's nod, he continued. "Well, I'm assuming you have no idea how you're going to transfer data from that into your friend's body… is that true?"

Fang nodded tersely again.

"And that's where I come in, of course. I couldn't have helped you back _there,_ what with all those horrible wolf creatures and the Boss herself there, but now…"

Fang raised an eyebrow.

"Oh – you think you can't trust me? Well, obviously. If I was you, I wouldn't either, but I'm your only hope. No, I'm _her _only hope. She won't last another few hours, judging by the condition her body was in last time I saw her…"

Fang made a quick decision. Turning on his heel without a word, he made his way back to where the Flock was waiting. Crouching down, he explained the situation quickly to them.

Iggy swore, Angel whimpered, Gazzy made threats, and Nudge sadly acknowledged it was their only hope.

Nodding, Fang informed Iggy that he was in charge of Gazzy and Angel, grabbed Nudge's arm, pulled her to her feet, gently manipulated Max's empty body onto his back, and returned to where the whitecoat was waiting.

He smiled. "I'm glad," he said. "I'm Geoff, by the way."

Fang said nothing, walking past him, towards the School.

A flicker of a shadow passed over Geoff's face as he saw Max's skeletal frame and her sickly skin. He shook his head.

Nudge offered Geoff a small smile, and followed her flockmate towards the building.

Geoff shook his head again, and jogged after them.

--

"This place is basically empty, at the moment, of all important personnel. The Boss has gone off to one of our bases in Europe; and the Erasers – horrible creatures – have flown out. Us lowly scientists are the only ones left."

Fang said nothing, gripping Max's legs tighter, adjusting her position on his back. He loathed the position fate had manoeuvred him into, forcing him to depend on a whitecoat to save Max's life.

But perhaps it was only fitting that this man had a chance to redeem himself. He had created this _unfortunate _situation, and now he would fix it.

Fang hoped that, for once, the situation was now as simple as it seemed.

Nudge's dark eyes flicked back and forth between him and the whitecoat walking beside them. She looked as nervous as Fang felt.

Finally, they came to a room that seemed familiar. Nudge moved closer to Fang, looking uncomfortable. Here was the room where the masses of flyboys and the Head of the School had confronted them.

Geoff noticed and tactfully ignored the girl's discomfort, striding purposefully towards one of the doors. Opening it, he motioned Fang inside.

"Put her on the bed," he instructed.

Fang glanced around the room. His brows drew together. So, this was where Max's body had spent the last few weeks.

Carefully, loathing himself for returning her body, empty shell or not, to its previous place of entrapment, he lowered Max down onto the bed.

From what he could tell, the bed wasn't very comfortable. Certainly not a surface you'd want to spend any length of time lying on…

A drip was standing next to the bed, tubes unused and limply hanging down. Obviously it had been used to feed Max, or something, during her… stay in the room.

Fang bowed his head, and stepped back.

Max's skin was almost the same colour of the sheets she was lying on. She looked transparent, like a ghost. Her eyes had dark rings underneath them, and her hair was dull.

This wasn't Max. This thing in front of him couldn't be Max. Max was… Max was so full of life. She sparkled with it; her quick wit, her soft side that only came out when she was talking to one of the younger kids, her vibrant, confident blue eyes that suddenly turned shy and uncertain whenever they met his own dark ones… that was Max.

Fang, despite often coming across as pessimistic or just plain apathetic, always did his best to keep a positive outlook. Most of the time, he just made disparaging comments to irritate Max, because it gave him a form of sadistic pleasure to see her mad. She was beautiful when she was angry.

But this situation, no matter how hard he tried, he could not see anything ever being okay again. He could insult Max all day, and all she would ever do is breathe at him, and she couldn't even do _that _very well at the moment.

Suddenly, a small warm hand gripped his own.

Glancing down, he met Nudge's eyes. Her eyes were damp with tears, but she squeezed his hand gently with her small one.

"It'll be okay," she whispered.

Fang shook his head. He was supposed to be helping her, not the other way around. "I know," _It won't be. _He offered her a small smile, which she returned.

Still clutching his hand, she stepped towards Max's bed, and stretched out an arm. Delicately, she brushed a lock of pale hair off Max's even paler face.

"Hold on, Max."

Then she turned and, tugging Fang along with her, left the room.

Taking a glance back at her, colour and life choked from her body, Fang sent a silent plea to any God he could think of – Buddha, Allah, Burger King, anyone – _just don't let the white take her._

--

"Bloody slob," Geoff muttered to himself, as he grabbed an empty donut container, throwing it across the room and into the bin. It was followed in quick succession by another donut packet, empty foam coffee cups, an empty packet of chips, a half finished container of peanuts and a shoe.

Fang and Nudge dodged the flying objects, exchanging a glance.

"I told him so many times to clean up after himself… disgusting…"

Fang curbed his impatience, fighting the urge to snap at the man for being so frivolous when Max's life was on the line.

"Sorry," Geoff said, turning around and taking in the tense line of Fang's shoulders. "I tend to babble when I'm nervous."

"Why are you nervous?" Fang asked. The man had no personal attachment to Max at all. Why should he care?

"I've never done this… I don't know how the compression of her mind would have affected its content…"

Nudge nodded suddenly. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. We can't be sure if the data will mutate or not…"

Fang swallowed. Mutation? Please, no.

"Right, I'll take that thumb drive," Geoff said, holding out his hand.

Fang reached into his pocket, bringing out the small data drive. He weighed it in his hand, reluctant to let it go.

He placed it in Geoff's palm, and the man nodded, turning back to the monitors in front of him. He reached to turn them on, but found Nudge had already done so, and was examining the program he and his colleagues had created with interest.

He watched her for a moment, and then reached around her to insert the USB into a slot in the machine.

Nudge moved back to stand with Fang. "It's really cool," she whispered, eyes alight.

Fang did not understand the attraction she had for computers, but patted her shoulder gently.

"Okay…" Geoff muttered, tapping a few keys. "So, I've merged the data _back _with the program. It'd be too dangerous to just transfer directly from the drive into her body."

"Yeah," Nudge agreed, reminding Fang why he'd brought her along with him, her quick mind easily keeping up with the older scientist. "But doesn't that mean someone will have to go bring her out?"

"Yes," Geoff approved, looking pleased. "Now, I'll have to create a profile for one of you, so –"

He was cut off as Nudge gently shoved him out of the way. "Thanks," she said to him absentmindedly, already opening files and digging through data. "Fang, you'll be going in, yeah? It'll be quicker, and since we don't want Max to get any worse than she is…"

Fang nodded.

But wait; did he want to be left defenceless in front of this scientist? He seemed nice, but it would not be wise to forget the cold cruelty whitecoats had shown them before…

Nudge had picked up on his indecision, and frowned at him. _What do we do? _she mouthed.

Fang's brows creased.

"What… what are you doing?" Geoff asked, peering over Nudge's shoulder. "What? How did you find that? I never created that…" he was indicating the profile Nudge had created for Fang.

"No," Nudge replied, pulling open the file. "I did."

Geoff looked flabbergasted. "When…? How? How did you…" He glanced to Fang.

Then he did a double take. "You!" he exclaimed. "That boy – her friend! There was a glitch with you – we could never hear what you were saying… you must have tampered with the system, and –"

Fang made a split-second decision. Such spontaneous activity was not typical of his character – it was more of a Max sort of thing – but he couldn't really see any other course of action, and he was conscious of the ever-flowing stream of time.

Stepping forward, Fang gathered his strength, and sharply, cleanly, jabbed Geoff in the temple.

The elder man was instantly knocked unconscious, face scrunching up in surprise, and then relaxing. Fang caught him as he fell and gently lowered him to the ground.

"Sorry," he said offhandedly.

Nudge pursed her lips, unhappy about Geoff being incapacitated. Apparently deciding it was necessary, she returned to the computer.

"Okay, Fang, it's activated. Go over there, and put all the stuff on. We've only done it, like, fifty times before…"

She sounded distracted, and Fang looked over her shoulder.

His heart almost stopped.

Max.

_Max._

She was _alive._

Her face was creased with confusion, blue eyes completely lost. Her clothes were emaciated – stained with blood and ripped, her hair tangled, face smudge with dirt, blood and tears.

She was beautiful.

"Fang," Nudge said, sounding faintly amused. "Hurry up. She doesn't have much time."

Fang nodded, tearing his eyes away from the screen, and heading over to the corner, in which the equipment that would allow him into the computer resided.

--

Pain.

Light. Blinding light.

Dizziness.

Nausea.

Wait – what?

Pain? Light? Dizziness? Nausea? Why was she feeling _anything? _Why was she back?

Frustration and grief overwhelmed her. _Why was she alive?_

Max thought back. What could she remember? She had climbed the clock tower. It had hurt. She'd climbed over the railing. It hurt. Then she'd let go, let herself fall. She remembered the air rushing past her, tugging at her hair, her clothes. Then she hit the ground.

No.

Did she hit the ground?

Max couldn't remember. All she remembered was falling. Surely hitting the ground would have hurt like shit… and she was sure she'd remember pain like that. But she didn't.

She opened her eyes. It was raining.

_It's always raining…_

The water was drenching her clothes, mingling with the dried blood and sweat. It ran down her face.

No, it wasn't raining. It was _pouring._

Was this real?

She didn't think so. This was her street, or, at least, Maxine William's street. She was back in the non-reality.

She was alive.

No…

No!

"_No!" _she screamed, throat raw. She dropped to her knees. _"Why am I alive?"_

In a completely different world, dark brown eyes turned away from the screen, tears dripping down dark skin. She would not watch anymore.

Max clutched her head, pulling at her blonde hair. She was still trapped, her freedom had been denied. She had thought death was the answer, but still, she remained.

"Max,"

Max froze. What was real? Had _they _sent this to taunt her? He had left. He had left her here, in this place that reeked of fraud.

She raised her head.

It was him. She remembered the last time she saw him. He had faded away, pixels of colour disappearing in the rain.

Would the same thing happen if she touched him now?

He watched her with something akin to fear in his dark eyes. Ebony hair was plastered to his face.

He was _real._

But was she?

"…Fang?" she whispered, voice cracking. "You came back…"

His face collapsed with relief, and he took two long strides towards her and pulled her up. Then his arms wrapped around her.

Yes, he was real.

His warmth, despite the soaking rain, enveloped her. She returned his embrace, still unsure of whether or not she was real, but for the moment, not caring.

"I thought…" Fang whispered, voice hoarse.

Max shook her head, holding him tighter. She didn't know why she was still alive, but she was glad.

He pulled back, studying her face, drinking in her features. His breath fanned over her face, bringing a soft blush to her cheeks, regardless of the icy rain.

Without a word, Fang's lips met hers.

Max's eyes slid closed.

She hesitated.

Then she returned the gentle pressure upon her lips, moving her mouth against his.

And she was real.

Her hands reached up to tangle in Fang's dark hair, his arms gripping her tighter. He deepened the kiss and she followed, parting her lips.

She was real, and finally, she was free.

Fang's mouth broke away from hers with a gasp, and he raised one of his hands, only to see it dissolving rapidly, starting at the tips of his fingers.

He glanced to her, face calm, but eyes betraying the panic he felt inside. Then his dark eyes widened.  
Max was aware that she was dissolving into multi coloured pixels as fast as he was.

_Finally._

Reaching up to his face, she smiled at him, and brought his lips to hers again.

It was a blissful eternity that lasted mere seconds.

Short of breath, they leaned their foreheads together, eyes simultaneously drifting closed.

The stood, locked in each other's embrace, in the middle of an empty street, in the pouring rain, slowly disappearing from existence, their emancipated coloured particles drifting away, to be swallowed by the rain.

Nudge, who had returned to the screen, now boasting a box of tissues, uttered a choked laugh, burying her face in a wad of soft white paper handkerchiefs.

--

Geoff groaned. Why was it so dark? He reached out in front of him, hands locating a chair. Then a desk. Then a keyboard.

Right.

He was in the monitor room.

But _why _was it so dark – oh. He opened his eyes.

God, his head hurt.

Lifting a hand to his temple, he cringed as his probing fingers located a lumpy bruise.

Probably looked something awful.

Then he remembered.

Kids with wings – in computers – falling – dying – saved onto – then rebooted – but so frail – she might die –

_That bastard!_

Geoff shot up, and then moaned, holding a hand to his head.

The stupid kid had knocked him out. The stupid kid had hacked into his program. And, where was the stupid kid? Gone.

Pushing away the fierce headache, Geoff hurried out of the room. He poked his head into the next room. The bed was empty. A piece of paper was left. Walking into the room, he picked it up.

Scrawled messily in the middle was a simple, '_Thanks_.'

How quaint.

Tucking the note into his breast pocket, he scrambled out of the room, skidded around the corner, out the door and into the hallway.

His breath coming faster, he thundered down the hallway, dashing past a startled scientist in a white coat.

Reaching the end of the corridor, and the door to outside, he grabbed the handle and wrenched open the final barrier.

Stumbling into the cold morning air, he wildly looked around.

A movement caught his eye.

Two figures were hovering in the air, large wings beating evenly. A blonde boy and another with strawberry-blond hair, and both were holding their arms out. Before his eyes, another small figure took a running take-off and launched itself into the air, long blonde hair streaming out behind her.

Then, running more slowly, three figures in a line. The one in the middle was being supported by the others, and then was thrust into the air, tawny wings beating laboriously.

The two boys already in the air grabbed her arms, supporting her as she steadied her rhythm.

Geoff's face suddenly broke out in a giant grin. She was alive! They'd done it… his shoulders suddenly felt lighter as he saw her face, tense with effort, yet alight and fiercely happy, and it was as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

The smaller of the two figures remaining on the ground, head surrounded by a halo of dark curls, waved at him.

He waved back.

Then she also stretched her wings out, and launched into the air.

The tall dark figure remaining stared at him, and then spread his dark wings, launching himself straight into the air, his dark hair falling into his face.

He quickly joined his flockmates, sliding into place beside the girl who had been away for so long.

--

Max suddenly folded her wings to her back, allowing herself to plunge through the clouds towards the ground.

She heard her friends' cries of horror and alarm, and knew that she'd pay for doing this later.

She hoped that her wings were strong enough to pull her out of the dive.

Streamlining her body, she arrowed herself down, gaining even greater speed.

In her peripheral vision, she could see Fang, Nudge and Gazzy shooting after her, Iggy and Angel slightly behind.

Knowing it would cost her speed, she moved an arm, and waved at them, reassuring them, their terrified expressions instantly changing to dangerous irritation and exasperation. She understood why. They'd thought she had been seriously in trouble.

Fang flipped her the bird, Nudge rolled her eyes, Gazzy scowled, Angel explained the situation to Iggy, who then started shouting profanities.

Max grinned. It was worth it.

Because this time, the wind rushing through her blonde hair was real and the ground rushing up towards her was not just a digitally simulated image.

Max snapped out her wings, rejoicing in the _real _jolt of pain she felt.

She hadn't slowed down as much as she thought she would. The ground continued to invade her vision. She could hear Fang and her friends shouting.

But she was free.

--

Fin.

--

**A/N – **Oh, my God. Finished.

Sorry it took so long. I was stuck between the two ways I could've made this turn out. I chose the happy ending, despite the beauty of sad endings. Is this classified as a happy ending? I left it open ended, for my own satisfaction.

As I was typing this, I was wondering what genres I put the story into. I totally don't think I intended it to turn out as some fantasy/sci-fi fic, what with souls being stored in USB drives. Yeah, um…?

I swear there was something else I wanted to say, but I can't remember right now.

Move onto reviews, and then maybe I'll remember…

_Ann – I haven't seen the matrix, but I'll take that as a compliment? Thanks for your review!_

_PopItLikeAPopTart – Nope, no sequel, I don't think. But have an Epilogue-y thing instead? :D_

_Maximum Writers – I love your reviews. Really, I do. My head pretty much exploded anyway. It tends to happen when I get complimented… Sorry, it, er, took so long to update. (sweatdrop)_

_Anonymous – Two months is considered soon, right? I mean, it's not that long a time… Glad you liked the story so far, and I hope this didn't ruin it for you. :D_

_Shadowseeker170 – Mmm, I much preferred the last chapter to this epilogue thing. It just flowed better, y'know? I find it easier to write the tragedy stuff. Sorry it took so long to write this up!_

_Fang Addicted – I'm glad you liked the story up until last chapter. Thanks for reviewing!_

_MRACR – No, of course she made it out eventually. I wouldn't write fifteen chapters just to have her die in some computer. Die outside, perhaps, if you take this chapter in that way… Dude, yeah, the single wing will totally play on their sympathies. I'll be all like: oww, guyzz, they cut off my wing! (notice this is all something I'm going to do, and I'm one of those people that makes promises they never keep…)_

**Back To A/N – **Yes, I did remember. I'm sorry if you were displeased with the ending. If you really didn't like it, just tell me so in a review, and do explain why. The frailty of my ideas, bad writing, anything! I swear, I'd be so horrible if I ever published a book or anything. I can see it, on the last page, in brackets: (sorry the ending was crap!!) I'm too insecure for this job…

Okay, thanks to everyone who reviewed/read/faved/alerted. I appreciate y'all very much. I hope you enjoyed the story to an extent.

Signing off for the last time!

_**R and R!**_


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